Redemption: Hunters and Preys
by Calliope-Beautiful Voiced
Summary: [Prime-verse] With the end of the war, they thought everything would go back to normal; but when someone suddenly starts hunting down former Decepticons, it's up to Jazz and Prowl to find a solution. Especially when one of the Polyhexian new teammates happens to be Drift...
1. Prologue

**Hello. As many of you know, this story has been rewrote once before; it was my sad attempt to save it, only to finally notice that I was making one huge mistake. So, I finally gave up, and decided to split the fic in two, starting all over. I'm so sorry for all those who were following the previous version, I truly am because I know what it feels like when a story that you liked gets cancelled. But I wasn't happy with it anymore, neither felt happy writing it… In fact, it kind of became a burden, because I didn't want to leave it in hiatus.**

 **I'm, though, saving some chapters from that story into this one. The chapters from _Out in the Open_ that took place on Earth will now be part of a completely different fic titled _Pedestals_. These two stories will interconnect from time to time ―mostly in the form of a visit from Optimus Prime, who's on Earth―, however it isn't a need to read both at the same time, since their plots are completely different. If I'm lucky, someday I may united them in a third story. If not… Uh… At least I hope to give you two stories you may enjoy.**

 **Again, so sorry about this.**

 **Warning: English isn't my mother language, so there might be some grammar mistakes here.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own _Transformers_ franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro.**

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

It was a fragging disaster…

The Autobot ship came out of nowhere, right when they were suffering a malfunction of their weapons systems, leaving them without any other choice but to fall back. Of course, the Prime's men chased after them, so, making his mind, he ordered the others to bridge themselves at the enemy ship, and take their opponents face to face. Nobody said anything against that plan, and some even laughed it off saying that it was going to be a much simpler battle this way…

What they didn't considered was that there was a cosmic storm brewing not too far from their coordinates. A big one to make it worse… Only when the alarms went off did everyone on board the cruiser acknowledge that their chase took them deep within Theta Scorpii; and too late did anyone considered to activate the energy shield. The storm hit them with everything it had, crushing the vessels, and scattering their occupants to the stars; only so the residual radiation could finish the job… Cybertronian armor wasn't designed to resist this kind of conditions. Sure, they could take one plasma shot ―the war proved that plenty times―; but not a cosmic plasma bath, that was expelled from a system filled with supernovas and electromagnetic anomalies, such as this one.

Yet, one of the figures remained, and its homing beacon went active, sending an SOS to the nearest ship.

Unfortunately, another Decepticon answered the call…

That was pretty much how this started.

* * *

 **Hope you liked it. Let me know.**

 **See ya.**


	2. So Long, Tranquility

**Hello, again. I'm glad to see this fic is getting some readings; thanks for giving it another chance.**

 **Also, special thanks to Skyshadow54 and to IdioticLaptopUser for their comments! It made me happy! I really hope not to disappoint your expectations!**

 **A quick clarification before the chapter:**

 **Here the characters speaks of a breakout that happened three-stellar cycles ago; that was something that took place on another fanfic. Also, the race of giant lizards to which Crosshairs refers is based on _Transformers Drift_ comics, and it's, also, something that I included in another story.**

 **That's all. If anything else comes up during the plot, I'll indicate it too.**

 **Warning: English isn't my mother language, so there might be some grammar mistakes... Also, this is my first time attempting to write Jazz's slang... Sorry.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own** ** _Transformers_** **franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro** **.**

* * *

 **-ONE-**

 **SO LONG, TRANQUILITY**

Prowl, Praxian by birth, was now captain to Iacon's Law Enforcement department. His promotion was hardly a surprise, considering the events from three stellar-cycles ago, when Shockwave's and Starscream's lackeys broke into the max security prison in order to free the Stunticons and Combaticons in a sad attempt to change the war's result. The news of the famous Autobot Triplets chasing down those two gestalt teams, all the way back to Earth, helped them with their jobs. X-Brawn was now a Special Ops, Side Burn was officially an instructor at the Elite Guard Academy, while he got his promotion to captain ―ok, the fact that Ultra Magnus took the job as head of the Elite Guard helped moving things along. The white and black mech has, ever since, dedicated himself with newfound strength to defend the Cybertronian law. His only issue, so far, was the fact that there were yet some runaways that nobody has found; he wanted to help in the search, but the supervisor was keeping him busy with other missions… Fortunately, it didn't mean he couldn't help his older brother who _was_ investigating the fugitives' probable whereabouts ―off the records, of course. _"We've tried all the borders on the west and east… North? No. Too risky, and these guys wants to go unnoticed. That leaves only one option."_ He activated his com-link, staring at the northern border.

« _Hey, bro._ » X-Brawn's cheerful voice greeted him.

"I think you should start patrolling the Sea of Rust. It's the safest gamble to find the remaining runaways." The Praxian informed immediately, ignoring his brother's greeting.

A sigh was heard over the line.

« _Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for asking._ » The warrior's remark made the Middle Triplet wince in emotional pain. His social skills were in worse shape than he thought.

"I'm sorry, X… It's just, with all the work I have now…" He started to apologize, face-palming.

« _I know, Prowl… I know how you get when you're absorbed into something; you were exactly the same when we were sparklings…_ » Then, the older triplet chuckled. « _I remembered the time when Side got angry 'cause you wouldn't play with him, so he hid your data-pads for an entire afternoon. Oh, slag! How pissed you were!_ »

The white and black mech couldn't help but smile at the memory. That day he was his entire focus was on his homework; something that displeased his younger brother greatly, making him decide to grab all the data-pads he had, hiding him at his 'secret place'. It took Prowl joors to convince his sibling that he wasn't ignoring him on purpose, but that he had duties to fulfill… Only after promising to spend the entire next cycle with him did Side Burn returned the items ―turned out there was a hole beneath his berth where he stashed everything he wanted to keep hidden, especially candy. Even though he denied in front of others, he, sometimes, missed those days where there was nothing but his brothers and he. Life was much simpler back then...

A shift was detected by his sensors right outside his office, making him perk up. Someone was coming his way; and, either if it was the supervisor, as if it wasn't, he knew himself acting out of his jurisdiction helping his brother with a case given to Special Ops and not law enforcers. So, quickly, he deactivated the holographic map of Iacon, and told his brother he had to go. Immediately after, he brought up his workstation and some data-pads. Thanks to his efficiency, he had already finished the paperwork, however nobody else at the precinct knew it, so it wouldn't be hard for him to pretend he was yet working on it.

When the door swooshed open, the visitor found the Praxian proofreading one of the reports, diligently. The door-winger pretended not to notice the intrusion, until the newcomer cleared his vocalizer to force him look up. He recognized one of the supervisor's men; and, as he suspected the moment he recognized the shield on the visitor's chest, this mech was bringing a new assignment for the Praxian. Nodding, the white and black bot took the written debrief and started reading it… Only to frown, his processor concentrating in the information and forgetting everything else.

"Is this for real?" He questioned, raising his optics to stare at the other mech.

The messenger limited himself to nod, before turning to leave.

"The higher ups trusts you're the best option to look into this, officer Prowl." The visitor said, before walking out of the office, closing the door behind him.

The Praxian took another glance at the data-pad on his hands. It was strange that the supervisor delegated a case like this one to him, the youngest captain among the force. Either it was a test to see if he was ready, or the guy trusted him more than he credited him for. Prowl wasn't sure. The only thing he was certain was that he had to get moving; so, recovering from his initial shock, he walked out and called two other enforcers to come with, plus a forensic officer.

"Where to, sir?" One of the cops wondered, as they transformed to drive away.

"The space-ports. A spaceship just returned… Barely." That said, the middle brother of the Triplets, turned on his siren and sped off, followed by his men.

* * *

X-Brawn, a young, yet experimented warrior of mint green armor, entered the headquarters' cafeteria looking for his crew. To many he was just another soldier who fought in the war and managed to stay alive until its end; only a few knew his relationship with Prowl, and even fewer knew that they were part of the only set of triplets that Cybertron has ever known. Honestly, nobody has ever explained why three brothers were sparked instead of only two, nor why they reached maturity at different times; but, most of the people who knew the Triplets wandered how it was possible for them to look so different from each other ―X-Brawn was the bulky and tall one, an all-around warrior-class mech; Prowl was the prototypical Praxian, with a tactician-like processor and big door-wings with sensors; and, finally, Side Burn was the overexcited speedster of the trio, the easy-going one. Some thought that this was due to the fact their hatches were located at a triple frontier… But, nobody could say it for sure. However, there were some bots who didn't give a frag about this matter, and simply liked the fact that they were friends with, at least, one of the three.

A very well-known Polihexian was among that list…

"Hey, X-Brawn!" The short, white figure called from a corner, waving a hand to call the other mech's attention.

"Should've known you'll be here, Jazz." The bulky warrior answered, walking up to the former lieutenant, smirking. They bumped fists. "What're you doing all by your own? I thought you were the social-type." He asked, looking at the empty table.

"Yer being talking with Prowler, haven't yah?" The Polihexian, laughed, leaning against the chair's backrest and crossing his arms. "Nah, the bosses decided tah test mah team's abilities this morning." He explained.

"And why aren't you with them?" The green mech wondered.

"'Cause ah passed with flyin' colors." Jazz chuckled, grabbing the cube that was in front of him, and taking a sip.

X-Brawn didn't buy a word… He knew the guy; this was his brother's Amica Endura, after all. He was aware of the mech's reputation as third in command (later second, when Prowl chose to stay behind during the _Ark_ 's launch) and, before that, as Special Ops… That's right, the bot with the visor used to have this very same job before everything went to slag, over four million years ago; but, most importantly, after joining the Autobots, he became a very clever, and very resourceful, _saboteur_. He was the bot Optimus would call whenever they needed someone to infiltrate a Decepticon outpost. The fact that he was still alive, with all his limbs attached to his body, proved just how good he was...

"Well, I would love to stick around and chat about what trick you used to be here, while your pals are burning fuel at the training room…" The older triplet said, making his companion chuckle behind his glass. "But I gotta find my team and get out of here." He told the shorter mech, extending a fist toward him. "See yah around, 'Hexian."

The former lieutenant bumped fists with the other bot.

"Send Prowler mah regards, will yah?"

With that, the bulky warrior left, and Jazz was on his own again. Relaxing on his seat, the bot checked his chronometer, noticing that his partners had been at the training room for over a joor now. Sighing, he drank the last sip of Energon and went to leave the empty cube, deciding to, also, grab another. What could be taking so long to those two? _"Maybe I should go and check on them…"_ He decided, hurrying his new drink, before jogging out of the cafeteria.

The Special Ops headquarters were a gianourmous building, located nearby the War Academy. They weren't exactly at Iacon's center ―where the Hall of Records was being rebuilt―, but they weren't in the outer rings either… It was a comfortable location, though. Their new base was perfect, and had all the toys they needed to keep themselves sharp; but, given the lack of people, since only a few had ever returned to the planet, the building always seemed empty…

As the Polihexian reached the stairs that led to the room he was trying to reach, the distant sound of grunts and huffs made him smile, recognizing those voice prints. Smirking, he started to descend to the sublevel, practically jogging and skipping some rungs.

Downstairs, there were four Autobots sparring; two of them were large and bulky, and were demonstrating that their physical strength was equal to their size, having no issues whenever they needed to throw aside their opponents. This last pair were considerably smaller, yet, they were also as tough as they come. One of them was a swordsman of white and orange armor, with the badge carved proudly in the middle of his chest-plates; the other was a green and black mech, a sharpshooter and, most likely, a former frontline bot, whose brand was carved on one of his shoulders. The only thing those two had in common were their reputations as troublesome assets…

To tell the truth, the director ―who was observing the match from the control room― had a hard time understanding why someone like Jazz, whose illustrious career preceded him, chose that duo as his new partners. Everyone knew who they were! Especially the knight! Grimacing in repressed anger as the white and orange mech managed to throw his opponent off-balance, the Specials Ops Director snorted, crossing his arms.

The fact that Jazz finished his trials faster than his companions didn't surprise him at all… The guy was just that good. But the fact that these two were also excelling the rest of the joint… He didn't know how much he liked that idea, if at all.

Meanwhile, the knight was dodging incoming attacks from his opponent. Given this was training and not actual fighting, he couldn't use his real swords, but sticks; just as the larger mech couldn't use real blasters, but paintballs. So far, his armor was pretty clean ―save one scrap on his left shoulder, courtesy of the bulky guy's partner―, so he was winning… In a way. Even though he has been able to blown some hits to his sparring partner, he couldn't pin him down, so the fight always resumed kliks afterwards. _"I need to get closer…"_ He thought, sliding behind a crate, taking cover from the 'enemy fire'. There had to be a way for him to get close enough; he just needed a window.

Peeking out of his hiding, the knight soon had to take refuge once again, as more paintballs were thrown his was.

"Scrap!" The larger warrior grumbled as his paint pistol jammed.

"I'll take that as my cue." The white and orange mech, who was spying his opponent once again, told himself.

And, tightening his grip around the sticks, he let out a battle cry as he ran straight toward the other bot who tried to shove him off; unfortunately, the smaller Cybertronian jumped forward, using his sparring partner's forearm to take even more impulse as he put one kneepad forward. Next thing the larger warrior knew, he was hit on the tank at full-force, reason why he fell flat on his back. The knight pinned him down by stepping on his chest, and pointing at his face with one of the sticks he was using for swords.

"I yield…" The bulky guy of dark grey armor admitted through his gritted teeth.

Smiling, the smaller bot stepped aside so his opponent could get up.

"It was a great spar." He said, trying to buff any possible grudge… But all he got was a snort, as the other mech got up and walked away, paying his good intentions no mind.

Sighing, the knight turned to the other pair in the room, finding out that his real partner was in a tight spot, trapped behind a pillar. _"C'mon, Crosshairs, you're better than that!"_ The white and orange mech thought, wishing he could help; however, by the rules stablished in the test, if he interfered, his teammate wouldn't pass, and, if such thing happened, he wouldn't be able to remain in the force.

Crosshairs, meanwhile, wasn't actually trapped. He was simply counting how many paintballs the other guy had used during their spar, and keeping track of how many he has left. None of them had much more ammunition, and, to tell the truth, the whole situation was getting pretty boring… Time to be done with this fight. Placing his red googles over his optics, the green and black mech activated his targeting system and leaped out of hiding. The other warrior, seeing his opponent coming out in the open tried to counterattack… Unfortunately, while Crosshairs had a perfect score, the other bot simply grazed the paratrooper's leg. The green bot won.

"Crosshairs, one; rooky, zero." The paratrooper silently cheered, pulling his googles off his optics and placing them back on his forehead, while the bot he was sparring with scoffed and walked away, sulking. "Sore loser…" Crosshairs muttered, grimacing.

"You did great, my friend." Drift commented, walking closer to his partner.

The green bot smirked, turning to look at the knight.

"I may not have your fancy moves, but I sure know how to stand my ground." He reminded the younger mech.

"You would know my moves, if you allowed me to-…"

"No, thank you!" Crosshairs hurried to say, walking away from his friend.

He respected Drift, big time, but he just couldn't put up with his acrobat-like techniques… But, he liked to have the knight as a friend. After they were put together as a team, the white and orange bot has kept him alive more times than not, and has done nothing but being a good friend. A part of the paratrooper still had a hard time believing it, considering that they didn't start their partnership with the right foot… Not to mention the time they got caught by a race of giant lizards, who wanted to dismantle them ―that one really taught them how to work together…

As the two warriors walked out the room, the head of the joint started reading the performances' results, right when the soft swish of the doors alerted him of a visitor.

"You're late. Your men are done already." The bot said, not looking at the newcomer.

"Ah know they're done… Man, 'Hairs has a mean aim, dontcha think?" The mech with a thick Polihexian accent commented, walking up his toward his superior.

The director groaned with a sigh, before turning to look at the Special Ops officer, who was smirking with sufficiency, with his arms crossed over his chest, weight leaning against a nearby keyboard. _"If he wasn't the best there is…"_ The dark crimson mech thought, frowning at the grin, which was answered by a downward grimace.

"A respectful team leader, would've come _here_ to watch the matches; instead of hiding in the shadows of the room where nobody else could see him."

"Ah like to know how people behaves when Ah'm _not_ around." Jazz retorted with a shrug. "That was mah job, after all."

That said, the former lieutenant walked out of the room, and made his way back to the cafeteria, taking that there was where his men were headed. However, before he could make it to the staircase, his com-link pinged; it was Prowl. _"That's a first…"_ He thought, stopping on his tracks to attend the call. Even though they were Amica Endura, he couldn't remember a single time where the Praxian has called him; not even once. He usually just yelled at him, or came to meet him in person.

« _Jazz, I need your help._ » The white and black mech said without even bothering to greet his best friend ―which was a far too good opportunity for the Polihexian to let it pass…

"Hello to yah too, pal. Long time, no see; how're yah doin'? Ah'm fine, thank yah." The Special Ops retorted, grinning.

A long groan came back, next to a sigh. This caught the white mech's attention too, aware that the other bot never produced those sounds, except when absolutely frustrated. It told him it wasn't time for jokes…

"What do yah need?"

« _Meet me at the north-side spaceports. I'll brief you there_ » was Prowl's only answer. Evidently he didn't want to discuss whatever was going on over the com-link.

"See yah in ten." That said, he hung up. "Right after Ah pick up mah team…" He added, jogging his way back to the cafeteria.

* * *

Prowl sighed once again, before going back to the crime scene he was dealing with. Only when he arrived was he told that there were multiple precincts working on this case; and with good reason too! The vessel he was currently working on wasn't the only one, nor the first… Neither was the pilot of said ship…

As he approached the room where he was moments ago, the Praxian couldn't help but notice two forensics opening the door to the bridge.

"Don't!" He ordered, making the pair back away. "I need to do one more thing before you enter to collect the evidence." He informed, hurrying to stand at the doorway, not daring to walk inside and disrupt anything…

The control room was a mess… _"Time to work."_ Prowl thought, immediately dropping to a knee, before start reconstructing the fight in his mind. Hopefully, once Jazz arrived, he would've everything he needed to find the culprit.

* * *

 **That's all for now. Thanks again for reading; and, please let me know your thoughts.**

 **Bye.**


	3. Along Came a Scorpion

**Hello again! Sorry for the delay; hope you enjoyed your hollidays!**

 **Skyshadow54** **: hahaha! You're right, Jazz was having too much fun. I'm glad you liked the sparring scene, because I always have trouble when describing fighting scenes.**

 **Now, those who were reading _Out in the Open_ will recognize this chapter. Yes, I saved it from there, although changing some things.**

 **As usual, I'm basing Drift/Deadlock story and personality on the comics that tell his backstory.**

 **Warning: English isn't my mother language, so there might be some grammar mistakes here.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own** ** _Transformers_** **franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro.**

* * *

 **-TWO-**

 **ALONG CAME A SCORPION**

The three Cybertronians approached the spaceports, transforming into bipedal-mode as soon as they decried the law enforcers flooding the place. No doubt something happened. Something big, otherwise Prowl wouldn't have called for so many people, especially if he called for _him_ in specific. Pressing his lips into a thin line, the Polihexian questioned an officer for the captain's whereabouts, before gesturing his own men to follow his lead into the docks; behind him, the white and orange, and the green and black mech exchanged a quizzical look and a shrug.

It wasn't hard to find the indicated location. All he had to do was track the current of cops; all the way to a battered trading spaceship.

"This is the third one that gets attacked this week." Jazz commented, as he and his men walked toward a commercial spaceship.

It was being analyzed by an entire fleet of law enforcers; all of which were running from one way to the other, calling for the forensic officers to come. Some were, also, interrogating witnesses, starting with the guy who towed the vessel to port…

Honestly, the lieutenant didn't know what they were doing there. This wasn't a job for the Special Ops; yet, again, it was _Prowl_ who called, so he decided it was for the best not to second-guess, and simply show up. The Praxian would, most likely, explain himself once they were face to face.

And he wasn't wrong.

The white and black mech came to receive them personally as soon as he was informed of their arrival; there was a serious look on his face ―although that wasn't weird; after all, it was _Prowl_.

"I'm glad you decided to come, Jazz." The, now, captain of Iacon's Police Department, said. A servo extended for his old friend to take.

Of course that the Polihexian, being who he is, wouldn't be happy with a mere shake of hands… It would break their tradition, in which he's a master in driving the law enforcer crazy with his familiarity. Besides, it looked like he needed his goofy tricks, considering the surroundings; so, he took the hand…

"What's up, Prowler?" The shorter mech greeted his friend, while forcefully pulling him into a hug.

The white and black bot grunted at the gesture; his serious face promptly falling into an all-out scowl, door-wings falling down in discomfort. _"Of course…"_ He told himself, trying hard not to growl to his over-emotional friend's antics. However, it didn't prevent the law enforcer from pushing back from the embrace, while coughing to fight back the embarrassment; then, putting up his professional side, he proceeded to explain the situation:

"We recovered this ship from Luna-2's orbit, where it came out of hyper-speed. Apparently, it got attacked as it prepared to perform the quantum jump back to Cybertron." The cop narrated, turning around, and starting to walk up to the vessel. "Walk with me." He said over his shoulder, compelling his old friend to do so. "At first we thought it was an act of piracy…"

"YO!" Crosshairs, who was walking behind Prowl and Jazz, suddenly ―and rudely― called out the Praxian, who turned to look at him. "If this is a robbery, then what the scrap are we doin' here?"

"If you would've allowed me to explain, you would have been informed by now."

Jazz knew that there was no malice in this answer; he knew it was Prowl's Praxian-instincts talking, but Crosshairs didn't. In his audio-receptors, this was sass; and sass meant war for him. Luckily, the Polihexian quickly gestured the green mech to calm down, and apologized to the law enforcer for the interruption. Although unamused, the tactician preferred to simply nod and kept walking. The lieutenant sighed, and thanked that this didn't end with a three-joors-lecture ―he has had his share…

"As I was saying, our first theory proved to be wrong the moment we checked the cargo bay: nothing was missing." Prowl resumed his speech, deciding to ignore the paratrooper and the knight who were walking behind them.

"Ok, so it wasn't piracy, but still…" Jazz shrugged in confusion. "It's not up tah meh to look into these assaults."

"I'm aware."

"Then why did yah call meh here, Prowler?" The white bot wondered, as his friend stopped in front of a specific door. He did the same.

Growling at the nickname, knowing that it will follow him for as long as he existed, the cop opened the door that led to the ship's control room and navigation system; from behind him, he heard the two warrior-class bots who showed up with Jazz gasping at the sight. _"Yes, I guess is unnerving…"_ Prowl thought at he took a look at the wrecked room. The bridge was practically torn apart, with stains and marks of blaster fire everywhere. Glass from several panels were shattered over the floor. Luckily for them, the plexiglass from the husk resisted the struggle, otherwise they would've lost everything to the emptiness of space. Any Cybertronian would've been able to tell there was a fight between the crew and someone else; as a Praxian, he reconstructed the whole scene in his processor that very morning, by simply studying the position of the evidence. He knew that the pilots took cover behind their chairs, while their attacker did the same at the side of the door ―the left, considering the burn marks. He also knew that the attacker intentionally hit the navigation panel, so the stellar chart was unavailable; they were flying blind from that point forward. Then, the dome was shattered by the intruder; fortunately, again, the emergency program activated the plexiglass, reason why both pilots weren't ejected off the ship… Unfortunately, that gave the trespasser the time he needed to find a better angle…

"This doesn't add up…" Jazz mumbled, scanning the room. "Why would someone be so interested on a trading ship?"

"I collected as many evidence as I could... From the lowest deck, to the command center; but I haven't been able to access the security feed." Prowl admitted, turning to look at his Amica Endura. "Remember, back during the war, when you infiltrated half dozen Decepticon outposts?" He, then, asked, walking up to the console.

"Oh, Ah see where you're goin' with this…" Jazz admitted, arms crossed. "Yah need me to recover the data from this beauty's black box, huh?" He guessed, a grin growing on his face-plate.

All he got was a pair of narrowed optics. The Middle Triplet's patience was coming to its end…

"If you wish, I know where to find an analyst…"

"And yah still don't get a joke…" The shorter mech sighed, shaking his head, before taking seat and starting to type.

Behind them, Crosshairs and Drift exchanged a quizzical look again. They never knew Jazz was an informatics' expert. Sure, they both heard that the Polihexian was a key player in Optimus Prime's army, but it wasn't a surprise since he was, even for a short while, first lieutenant; none of them thought that he had other abilities, such as data recovery, nor that he knew how to get into the Decepticons' data system. _"Huh… There's more about this guy, than he lets on…"_ Drift thought with a faint smile, probably because it kind of reminded him of himself. But he quickly shooed away that thought.

He was no longer _that bot_. Whatever ―whoever― he was back then, it was in the past. He put that life behind him…

"Scrap…" Jazz cursed and the screen in front of him came to life showing nothing but static. "It seems the systems are seriously damaged."

"Anything salvageable?" The law enforcer asked, leaning close to his friend, eyes glued to the screen.

"Ah'm not sure… Wait! There's something here…"

He typed a few codes in, and, soon, the last events registered by the security cameras were being displayed for them. Curiosity taking the best of them, both Drift and Crosshairs walked up to the other two and took a look. The image wasn't optimal, but one could see the crew minding their own businesses; nothing out of normal…

Until a red alert started to sound.

As the mechs in the video hurried to their emergency posts under the intermittent red light, a bright white flash filled the feed, right before one of the bots who just got out of camera was thrown back into frame, battered.

All four Autobots frowned at this. There were evidences of a fight all over the ship, so there was no doubt that these guys got boarded by someone; question was who…

Two more mechs appeared again, answering fire, as they crouched to pick up their friend; but, as they do so, one of them gets hit, and the other one is attacked by something that comes literally out of nowhere.

"Wait!" Prowl orders, grabbing one of Jazz's shoulders. "Go back, frame by frame!"

As the lieutenant obeys, a clearer picture of the attacker appears before them: it's a small bot, a Minicon; and it looked like a scorpion. _"I've never seen it before…"_ Prowl vented in frustration. If he would've faced a Minicon such as that one, he would've been able to say who was the bot behind the attack, since those little counterparts tends to be loyal to only one person. Autobots has had their own too; but the war was too wrathful for such delicate beings. Blaster kept his the longest…

In a way, the fact that Soundwave saved Laserbeak was nearly a miracle.

"Can you give me another angle?" He wanted to see who the person that brought the MInicon was.

"Sorry, Prowler… That's all Ah can give yah…" Jazz apologized.

Prowl has never encountered this particular symbiont; so he had no clue as of who was the big bot behind this assault. _"Back to square one…"_ He sighed, dropping his doorwings. He really hoped that, by having this starship's black box and by calling Jazz to help him decode it, this case would run smoother. Seems it wasn't meant to be…

"Hey, you ok?" Crosshairs' voice echoed behind the cop and the Polihexian.

The two high ranked officers turned around, only to find that Drift was staring at the frozen image on the screen as if he just happened to have seen a ghost.

* * *

 _He recently received his Decepticon shield, and was given orders to meet a unit that took position at Tetrahex plains. It was a quiet sector, unlike the others where the Autobot and Decepticon conflict was nearly constant; and it was a rather small outpost too… However, as he attempted to get closer, the guard sounded the alarm immediately, forcing the newcomer to identify himself by showing his shield and the data-pad with his transference. Only then, he was taken inside, to meet the squadron's leader; a tall green and black mech of grey protoform, who arched an optic-ridge at the newcomer. He was the youngest bot thrown at his team since the war broke out… But he immediately shrugged it off and put him in the training room with the others._

 _"Whose kid is that?" A dark grey mech chuckled, crouched, his sand-colored Minicon next to his legs._

 _"Whose prick are you?" He retorted, turning to look at the guy._

 _The other warrior quickly rose to his feet, clearly ticked off by the comment, when a soft chuckle made them both turn to look at a silver grey and purple femme. She was leaning against a column; her wings indicated that she was a jet, and she was relaxed._

 _"Something funny, Slipstream?" The dark grey 'Con snarled, glaring at the femme._

 _She simply turned to look at the transferred mech._

 _"What's your designation?"_

 _"Deadlock." He answered._

 _"Welcome to the club, Deadlock."_

* * *

"Drift!"

Crosshairs' voice snapped him out of it. His processor was back in the present, but his vents were faster than normal, almost erratic. He stared at his three companions as if he couldn't convince himself he was surrounded by Autobots, and wasn't because he was a prisoner, but because he was one of them now. It seemed his memories were stronger than he thought…

"You ok, Drift?" Jazz wondered, placing a hand over one of the knight's shoulders.

"I… Yeah. I'm fine."

"Yah don't _seem_ fine. What's wrong?" The lieutenant pressed.

"I-I… I just had a flashback… From the war, from when I was…"

More flashes of his old self assaulted him at that point. He shook his head, pushing them back to the depths of his processor once again; trying to ignore who and what he was, just as he has been doing since he switched sides.

"Flashback?" Crosshairs, wondered in a barely audible voice, receiving a nod as answer. "That's ok, pal. I got them too, yah know." He said with a shrug. "I mean, it has been only a few stellar-cycles since the war ended…"

Drift nodded in thanks for the concern, before admitting that he knew whose Minicon was the one from the video, getting Prowl's and Jazz's full interest immediately.

"His name is Blackout, and he used to be a Decepticon man hunter." The white and orange bot shared.

"The men hunters? I thought that unit disassembled long ago." Prowl commented, frowning, crossing his arms and cocking his head toward the knight, who nodded at his assumption.

"Kind of. They became bounty hunters as the situation got worse for both factions…" Drift admitted. "Most of them were captured by Autobot troops, or simply disappeared when Cybertron went dark. Many thought them terminated…" He said with a shrug, receiving nods from the two Amica Enduras.

"Hey, weren't you a man hunter too?" Crosshairs suddenly asked, staring at him.

The swordsman's spark almost froze at the mention of his past, and his shoulders tensed…

"That was a very long time ago." He said, before walking out of the room without asking permission or anything.

The green mech was about to ask the knight if he said anything out of place, but Jazz stopped him from doing so, and forced the paratrooper to remain in the room. _"The transition was hard for him…"_ He remembered, optics fixed on the open door, but mind elsewhere. He was thinking of the time when he met Drift, a former Decepticon who turned against Megatron, fell off the grid and became Neutral… Until he reappeared, wishing to join the Autobots. Many others did the same on both sides; the problem with the knight was that his reputation preceded him. After all, many warriors heard about the infamous Deadlock…

…

Outside, Drift was taking deep vents, trying desperately to regain control over his emotions. _"Wing would kill me… All those quartex of training went to the trashcan in a blink of an eye…"_ He bitterly smirked, remembering the young knight who saved his life when he turned on Turmoil. That time he had no further plan, besides getting off the ship. He didn't even check if there was a planet on the scape-pod's route. He just pushed the launch button and hoped for the best.

And now this…

He couldn't believe that Blackout was still out there. He thought the hunters fell back and left when the Autobots, in the end, won the war; after all, they were all fugitives now. He was honest when he said that the men hunters were believed terminated, and that he believed it too. Nobody had heard of them in mega-cycles; and, after Cybertron went dark, most of them were officially declared 'missing in action'… Only a few were seen again, and that was far too long ago; starting with Lockdown, who was sent after his tailpipe when Turmoil told the high command of his betrayal. But, the others? Never heard of again. _"And here I was, believing that scrap of 'the past is past'…"_ The mech smirked bitterly. It was like his previous self came to bite him in the aft, right when he was ready to finally move forward.

Then, he saw some of the ship's crew in the distance. They were talking to the law enforcers, and looked pretty shaken for what happened. There weren't as many bots as in the video, but it wasn't a weird thing considering what happened. The others may just be at the nearest clinic.

Jazz and the others came out, followed by Prowl, who was talking to someone over the com-link.

"Better?" The Polihexian asked, walking closer to him.

"A bit." Drift nodded, once again appreciating the concern.

"Jazz." The Praxian called, as his call ended. "Thank you again. Same to you, Drift." He added, looking at the knight who bowed his head in respect. "Now, I'm sorry but I've to leave immediately."

"What happened?" Having known the Middle Brother of the Triplets for so long, the mech with the visor knew when he was worried for something ―which usually meant trouble…

"I got a call from the clinic. The injured guy from the video? We lost him."

* * *

 **Hope you liked it. Let me know, ok?**

 **See ya!**


	4. So Many Questions

**Hello again, after so long. Sorry about that, but I haven't been able to follow this fic, nor** ** _Pedestals_** **in a while...**

 **I want to thank Skyshadow for the comments; I really appreciate your kind words, and hope that you'll like this chapter too.**

 **Again, Drift's past was taken from IDW comics (especially _Transformers: Drift_ and _More Than Meets The Eye_ in the numbers known as "Shadowplay", I think it were numbers 10 to 12), so is Lockdown's character, and Jazz's city of origin ( _Transformers Optimus Prime_ #8). Crosshairs, Blackout and Scorponok comes from the Bayverse.**

 **Flux is an OC of mine, and the nameless director from a couple chapters ago.**

 **Warnings: english isn't my mother language, so there might be some grammar mistakes here.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own** ** _Transformers_** **franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro.**

* * *

 **-THREE-**

 **SO MANY QUESTIONS…**

It was an uneventful evening… As freaking usual at that bunch of ruins which they were calling 'outpost'. He, sometimes ―all the time―, wondered why he had to keep watch, considering there was nothing around them, except more ruins; true, that planet was used by traders to stop and rest during their long stellar trips, but level of activity was near zero. The fact that they were on a half wrecked hotel was proof enough of how bad was the situation on that rock… Sighing, he accommodated himself on his seat, optics never leaving the horizon's line ―the space-docks, located on tall buildings, were perfectly visible from his location. In moments, such as this one, he tended to believe their leader was a paranoid bot…

"Weren't you keeping watch?" A feminine voice asked.

He didn't need to turn to know she was smirking.

"Weren't you supposed to be out?" He retorted, bored to no end, pulling his legs up and resting his feet on a piece of rubble in front of him.

She let out an overdramatic sigh. Her footfalls telling the mech that she was walking away. Good. They never truly liked each other, so their mutual absence was a most welcomed bless for one another.

"I just returned." She answered. "Oh, by the way: he wants to see you again."

"Mission?" He asked, finally turning to look at the silver grey and purple femme.

"Didn't say." Then, she disappeared from the room.

A chirp came from a sand-coloured piece of armour on his back-plates, hidden between the blades of his vehicular form. Scorponok was getting restless too. _"Especially when having that guy with us…"_ The dark grey mech thought, eyeing a particular room with wariness in his spark and cursing the cycle when Lockdown brought him in.

* * *

Prowl was reading a profile that belonged to the Decepticon identified by Drift: Blackout. He had interviewed the knight a couple times over the week in order to make it more exhaustive, since some data was far too vague for his like. Thanks to this, now he knew all about this mech; but none of it was exactly useful… He still had no clue of where to find him, nor why he was so interested in that particular ship. The only logical reason he could come up with, since it was a commercial spaceship, was, of course, a robbery; but, then again, nothing was missing. Groaning, he left the data-pad on the desk as he passed his hands across hi helm. His processor felt about to explode… He lost track of how many times he went over the data; enough for him to see it with his optic-lids closed, yet not enough for him to understand this case… At all. To make things worse, the supervisor gave him briefs that spoke about other ships who got assaulted; all considered acts of piracy, but none of them was actually robbed. _"I need to face this from another angle…"_ The Praxian thought with a sigh. He grabbed the data-pad again and wrote one question: why?

Then, as if it helped his processor release some pressure, he kept listing all his queries: Why was Blackout so interested in these ships? Why assault them without taking anything? Was he looking for something in specific?

Then, the law enforcer remembered something told by Drift during their interview: he always spoke in plurals. So he wrote down another question: are other Decepticons involved? Also, if they were bounty hunters now, it meant that someone was paying for this, right? Maybe someone hired the mech to steal a specific artefact he hasn't yet located? It was a possibility…

But this last thought made him frown as he wrote down one last question, before getting up and walk out of his office: if the hunters went into hiding as the war was lost for the Decepticons, how did this mysterious employer find Blackout?

* * *

The knight was at the headquarters' roof, staring at the horizon. From up there, he could see pretty much everything in Iacon, and a bit beyond too; for an instance, he got a small glimpse of Kaon's walls. A part of him wondered why said walls were still standing… He thought the Dinobots and Predacons would take it down… On the other hand, there was a dangerous cliff surrounding the city, so it could also be considered a security measure for its inhabitants; plus, the bridge between the cities was completely open. Then, he turned towards the Sea of Rust, before going back to the city. The renewed Hall of Records was starting to take shape.

"What're yah doin' up here, Drifter?"

The white and orange mech smiled at the nickname.

"Thinking." He answered, shrugging a bit. "And avoiding Crosshairs."

The Polihexian chortled with a grin, at this; then, he sat next to his companion; left hand resting on his flexed left knee; visor focused on the distance. The younger mech sat cross-legged, not minding the company.

"Yeah. He's on a mood this morning, isn't he?" Jazz commented, smirking.

Even though their impeccable performance, the director didn't give them a very high score. The paratrooper didn't take it nicely, as he went to lock himself at the training room, cursing the head of the joint with the most colourful words that any of them had ever heard… Not that they felt like stopping him.

"It's my fault…" Drift suddenly sighed, lowering his head.

"What?"

"The score we got… It's because I was a Decepticon before… We both know Flux doesn't like me." The knight kept saying.

The shorter mech stared at him, feeling bad for his companion. He has met plenty Autobots who were formerly on Megatron's side; all of them regretting with their whole sparks to have followed the gladiator. Drift was no exception to the rule. He joined the wrong side due to utter desperation; after all, he was but a youngling, surviving in the streets. Damn, he was still young; not Bumblebee-young, sure, but… Still. Younger than him.

Good thing was that, after a few reality checks, and as maturity reached his processor, the knight realized his monumental mistake when he joined the Decepticons, and abandoned the faction as soon as he could.

He has become a model citizen ever since, always trying to help and to be someone reliable. Many were wary of him due to his calm nature, though… Always thinking that he was hiding something… _"No doubt he is"_ this thought made the Polihexian look away and hold back a sigh.

Jazz wasn't born yesterday, so, yes, he knew that many bots switched sides, later during the war… But he also knew that all those who did so, took that decision due to _something_ , an experience that made them reconsider their original choice. He has heard the stories, of course… All but the one from the knight. Nobody knew what happened to him, not even the former lieutenant, which made him wonder over and over again what the story behind Drift's change of spark was. Nevertheless, he knew better than to push a bot too far; so he kept his mouth shut. For now.

The mech with the visor smiled again, and turned to look at his companion.

"Don't think too much 'bout dat, ok?" He said, trying to comfort the other bot, whose optics shone a shade darker at the thought of him being a lag to his team.

Drift simply nodded absently, before taking a deep intake and close his eyes. It was Jazz's cue to leave. The younger mech wanted to meditate. In all honestly, the white bot didn't know why he liked to do it so much ―once he found him sitting cross-legged at one of the training room's benches too, apparently trying to relax after an argument with another warrior. He never truly believed in the effectiveness of meditation… Then again, he wasn't the kind of mech who meditates.

The Polihexian opened the roof's door, dedicating one last look to the knight from above his shoulder, before re-entering the building. Mid-staircase, however, he stopped and sat down; a data-pad was taken out from his sub-space, next to a stylus. He opened a file that was named with nothing but a number, wrote some stuff down, and closed it; the data-pad soon returning to his sub-space. Then, he kept going.

The hallways were, as usual, little populated; meaning that nobody noticed he left…

"Officer Jazz."

Scrap.

Putting up his best grin, the white mech turned to see the director, who was looking at him with his both hands folded behind his back, and his optics narrowed. Trying not to think much of it, the former lieutenant walked up to his superior.

"What's up?" He greeted, casually.

"Are you familiar with Staniz City?" Flux asked, without any feeling in his voice.

The Polihexian failed one step, almost losing his lay-back mask.

He knew that place… He knew it better than anyone in that building; than anyone in Iacon.

"I am, sir." He admitted, mechanically.

"Good. Take your team and go to this coordinates." The other said, surrendering a small data-pad to the Special Ops. "Another spaceship was attacked. It crash landed there."

He looked at the numbers, playing a mental picture of the place. He had a notion of where to go. With one last nod, he called his partners to meet him at the front door; they had a mission.

The director watched the former lieutenant until he went around the corner, toward the exit; only after losing him from sight did the mech turn to leave.

Jazz, meanwhile, was absently making his way out and calling everyone's attention on the way. Everyone who knew him was familiar with his easy going, nearly ludicrous, antics, always trying to lift everyone's spirits with his goofy mood; yet, as they saw him pass by… There was no confident grin, nor that sort of swing on his steps. Did something happen to him?

Little they knew… The processor of the former lieutenant practically froze after hearing his assignment. _"No. I gotta snap out of it."_ He told himself, shaking his head a bit. But he couldn't… He hadn't set foot in there since…

Unbeknown to him, he was already calling for someone.

« _Jazz?_ » Prowl's voice came in via the com-link, sounding confused. Even when it was weird for the Praxian to call his Amica Endura, the odds of the Polihexian calling him were beneath zero. « _What-…?_ »

"Staniz." He said, interrupting his friend, while stopping at the front door.

Silence flooded the line.

"I got an assignment… At Staniz's old factories…" Jazz explained.

Not a sound. The tense quietness lasted a few seconds as the law enforcer thought carefully his next words.

« _Are you…? Are you ok?_ » He finally asked, worried.

"I don't know… I mean… I haven't been there since… Since before the war." All trace of his accent was gone, his processor replaying the old memories, over and over again.

« _What's the mission?_ »

"Another trading ship… It got jumped, but made it back home. Crash landed, though." Jazz debriefed his friend, taking another look to the instructions given to him.

« _It hasn't been assigned to me, that's weird_ » commented the Middle Triplet, confused at this revelation; but tried not to let it show too much. « _Perhaps you could ask X-Brawn to-…_ »

"No, I'm not bothering your brothers." The Polihexian refused, shaking his head and getting a grip on himself. "I got this."

« _You sure?_ »

"Yeah, I'm alright." The Special Ops assured, right before noticing that his two men were nearing his position. "But yah may have tah invite me a drink later…" He added, recovering his grin and his accent.

As if feeling that something changed in the surroundings, Prowl simply agreed before finishing the call. Meanwhile, Jazz informed his companions about their mission and their destination; thing that made them blink in surprise.

"Staniz? Isn't that in Polihex?" Crosshairs questioned, crossing his arms and frowning quizzically.

"Yup." The former lieutenant said, kind of dry, before turning to walk outside and transform.

Everyone knew he was a Polihexian, mostly for the accent which he actually lost mega-cycles ago, back when he took a job as Special Ops in Iacon. He just kept using it because it was funny to see everyone scratch their heads, trying to understand what he was saying. What nobody, save for a few bots, knew was that he was specifically from Staniz. A small factory city, nearing the border of Polihex. He never felt home there… He didn't like the prospect of working all day building spaceships; and, even though he knew a thing or two about music, he wasn't a consumed musician either, so the live-show bars weren't a real option either ―it helped putting the Energon on the table during his youth, though. So, he skipped town as soon as he could. Took a job at security detail, finding out that he was a natural.

His career took off from there, and the white mech never returned to Staniz… Until the war broke out…

 _"It hasn't gotten any better…"_ was the first thought from Jazz as they got closer to the city. Even though the rest of Polihex was coming back to what it was, his native city was but a memory. Half the buildings were long gone, including the ships' factories and the pubs were he used to go at night for a drink ―or to try his little experience as a bass player.

Holding back a sad sigh, the white mech took the lead, transforming and rechecking their positions; deciding where to go from there. It didn't take long for the other two to realize that Jazz was far too familiar with the environment, but preferred not to ask… If the guy liked his privacy, they would respect it. Plus, neither of them knew where the other was from, anyway…

"It should be right after that bar." The former lieutenant stated, pointing toward what was left of a construction.

He turned to look at his companions who offered him a nod, and took point. Indeed they found a spaceship crashed among the rubble, one that undoubtedly wasn't there before.

But that wasn't a trading ship either… It was a kind of ship that they all knew, and that made them get on guard immediately: a vessel of Decepticon origin. However, it wasn't until Drift froze on place that the white and the green mech got to know what it actually was…

"That's… That's a stealth ship…" The knight muttered.

"A what?" Crosshairs asked, arching an optic-ridge.

"Those were the ships given to us… The hunters…"

In less than a nano-klik, Jazz was already dialling for Prowl, again.

* * *

He didn't expect the Autobots to show up so quickly after his landing, giving him no other choice but to seek hiding and stay put until they leave. Yet, the moment their engines echoed in the distance, he jumped into a pile of debris and remained there; internally, he was cursing the moment he lost control and his ship spiralled towards the ground, crashing and sending alarms all over the planet. Probably, his arrival was known even at the Sea of Rust by now… This complicated everything.

Nonetheless, as the explorers came into view, his lips contorted into a predatory grin. Colour scheme aside, he would recognize that bastard anywhere: Deadlock. Still alive and functioning. After Lockdown lost him so many mega-cycles ago, at some forgotten planet, they all believed that the guy faded away eventually… _"He's going to love this"_ thought the figure, before he realized that the shortest mech in the crew was using his com-link. He cursed again. If more Autobots showed up, then he would never leave, nor retrieve whatever equipment survived the crash! To make things worse, the backup answered the call almost as fast as these three guys. Soon, a Praxian dressing the law enforcers' uniform was at the scene, next to a few others under his command.

"I see why you call me so urgently…" The newcomer said as soon as he laid optics on the ship.

The mech with the visor nodded and crossed his arms.

"Accordin' to Drifter here, that's a stealth ship." He had a hard-to-miss accent. Polihexian, no doubt. "He fears a hunter's loose on Cybertron."

The Praxian turned to look at Deadlock asking if the other one ―whom he called 'Jazz'― was being accurate. The traitor nodded, and even dared explain that these spaceships were done especially for them. He even went as far as to explain that, in order for something like this to happen, the vessel must've suffered a major malfunction. _"Yes, getting trapped in a roving magnetic storm, for an instance…"_ The hunter thought, sarcastically. If only his radar would've detected the damn magnetic wave sooner…

"Have you checked the insides?" The law enforcer asked, turning towards the back, where the entrance was.

"Nope. Thought yah'll find more things than Ah, so it's bettah if yah take if from here…" Jazz stated, hands on the sides of his hip, and a confident smile on his lips.

"But this was your assignment, wasn't it?"

The Polihexian crossed his arms and stared at the ship for a minute.

"Ah'll leave it tah yah for now. Ah wanna ask some things to mah superior, if you catch mah drift." He finally said, grin gone.

The white and black door-winger nodded, before calling for some scientists to analyse the ship's contents; also, he thanked his comrades, before sending them off. The Polihexian nodded and shook hands with the Praxian, before calling Deadlock and the green guy. They started to leave immediately after. _"Slag, dammit…"_ , he thought as the trio drove away. It was a far too good chance to put a tracker on the traitor, so he could find him later; but the place was swarmed with Autobots, and he wasn't in his best shape to put up a fight. Growling, he had to let the guy go, and wait for the others to do the same. _"This is going to be a long, long cycle…"_ He thought, trying to get comfortable without calling much attention.

* * *

The drive back to headquarters felt strangely tense for Crosshairs, who was at the group's rear, trying to keep up with the other two; leading them, of course, was Jazz who was speeding up more than he usually did when in a hurry. The three mech's were surrounded by a tense silence that was disliked by the paratrooper. He, of course, noticed that something was off back at the crash site; but he never thought it was this badly… Nonetheless, as they took the next turn with a bit more speed than they should have, Crosshairs noticed that the Polihexian was in _rage_. It was hard to believe. " _After all the times I've messed up, I believed that nothing could get under his armour"_ thought the green mech, as the building became visible.

"Yah two, get tah the cafeteria. Yer dismissed" ordered the lieutenant as they arrived to the front door and switched modes.

"Um… I know I may be rubbing acid into an open wound*, but what's exactly going on, boss?" The paratrooper asked out loud, transforming behind the white bot. Next to him, Drift, now on his legs too, simply nodded and got inside without a word.

"That's what Ah intend to find out, 'Hairs…" muttered Jazz, storming in, and leaving the green mech with a dumfounded face at the entrance's steps.

He got into the nearest elevator and made a beeline toward the office of their superior officer.

While being taken to the building's upper levels, the short mech allowed himself to vent in exasperation; one hand helping him hold his weight against one of the compartment's walls. He grimaced in anger; his visor hiding his frown.

There was a reason why he made it into Special Ops and became Amica Endura with Prowl, out of all mechs: he was _very_ observant. It was hard to fool him; and, if there was something he _hated_ , was to be taken for an idiot… And that was exactly what the director tried to do just now.

The servo leaning against the wall curled and clenched into a fist, trembling a bit by the pressure that Jazz was putting into it at the thought of being played. The director wasn't the first one attempting such thing; but he sure was the nearest one in succeeding, he had to admit. " _The Staniz-card was a smart move… I give him that much"_ thought the former lieutenant as the numbers in the elevator's screen kept passing by, until it stopped and opened. The bot got out and made his way to the door that read 'Director of the Special Ops, Officer Flux', which was locked. But when has _that_ ever stopped him?

Before the clerk standing outside could tell him otherwise, Jazz had taken a wire out of his left arm, and was overriding the lock. The director had no other warning than the hiss of the door as it swished open, and the light from the hallway projected shadow of an intruder into the room. Less than a klik afterwards, the door closed again, locking with a new set of numbers, and the newcomer had crossed the room in a hurry. Flux hadn't even risen his optics to see who it was, when a servo slammed his desk, practically sending his stack of data-pads and his knick-knacks flying off ―fortunately, he was able to catch a small crystal-flower he had, before it crashed and shattered against the floor.

Then, he found himself frowning at a cerulean visor which seemed to be on fire: Jazz. The director didn't need to see through it to know that the mech was fuming… And glaring daggers at him.

"Yes, _officer_?" Flux asked, stressing the last word, trying to remind the other his position within the chain of command.

"You knew, didn't you?" The Polihexian retorted, dropping his accent.

"I assure you, I have no idea what you're-…"

"Don't play this game with _me_! The ship!" Jazz insisted, leaning over the desk, rising his voice. "You knew it _wasn't_ a trading ship, didn't you?!"

The head of the joint didn't deny, nor affirmed the accusation; he simply stood there, staring at his subordinate's optics stoically. It only infuriated the Polihexian further, who, gritting his teeth, slammed the table one more time and turned to take his leave. However, he stopped at the doorframe, and informed that he would work on the case… But on one condition: Prowl, captain of Iacon's law enforcers would work side by side with his team. That got Flux's interest, as the older mech got on his feet.

"No." He refused. "This mission has been assigned to _you_ , a Special Op, not-…"

"Prowl has been investigating this case longer than I have." Jazz interrupted, turning to look at the other bot. "The vessel was a stealth ship, and the attacked trading ships fell victim of a former man hunter, who Drift identified as Blackout-…"

"Precisely." Flux stated with a deep nod, interrupting his companion's speech.

The white mech's mouth shut into a thin line, not following what that was supposed to mean. His boss already knew about the 'Con? Then why take the case out of the police's grasp? Plus, the Praxian wasn't just _any_ law enforcer, but _the_ law enforcer; he used to be Optimus' main tactician, and second in command ―Jazz only took that position when Prowl chose to remain on the planet, helping bots who weren't evacuated yet. If they both were after the same bot, then it would make sense for them to work side by side one more time… Right?

With a heavy sight, the director gestured his man to take seat. They needed to talk…

* * *

By the time he was able to crawl out of his refuge, the law enforcers had already confiscated almost all his gear, save for some stuff he had on himself, or well-hidden. _"At least the cloaking system works like a charm"_ thought the mech, as he checked what he had left, and remembered that the Praxian's sensors didn't pick up his spark-signature, even though they were in close proximity. Other than that, all he had now was an encrypted communicator and some Energon for a couple days. His mission became so much more complicated…

Sighing, he stepped out of the wreckage, and checked the small holographic map he had. A set of coordinates marked clearly. _"Here goes nothing"_ with that thought, his purple and black figure switched forms and got in movement. He would think how to get off the planet later…

* * *

 ***Because I doubt they have salt on Cybertron...**

 **That's all for now! Wish me luck with writing future chapters (I kind of need it, actually T_T).**

 **Hope to see ya soon!**


	5. So Little Answers

**Hi again. Sorry for the delay, but I haven't been feeling this fic for a couple days now; fortunately, yesterday my inspiration seems to have recharged, so I started writing it again (I'm one chapter ahead from this one).**

 **Skyshadow54: it makes me happy you liked Jazz's scene in the elevator, and, you're right, there will be lots of questions from everyone about everything.**

 **Once again, all scenes from Drift's past are based on the comic books.**

 **Warnings: English isn't my mother language, so there might be some grammar mistakes here.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own** ** _Transformers_** **franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro.**

* * *

 **-FOUR-**

 **… SO LITTLE ANSWERS**

"Let me get this straight: you, first, ask for my help; and, now, you want me to back off? Seriously, Jazz?" Prowl complained, crossing his arms and leaning against the backrest of the chair he was currently sitting on.

His companion looked at him from across the table and nodded, before looking around them. The two mechs were at a new café that was a few blocks away from both their work places ('neutral ground', as the Polihexian put it during their call); it wasn't big, nor very populated, giving them a somewhat private place where they could talk without worrying for prying audios and/or optics. The only other Cybertronians around were either nurses taking a break, some occasional fellow needing a cube, and, of course, the waiters. It was kind of intimate, actually… But Jazz preferred this setting over a bar ―too many drunk people who may hear and, eventually, spill to their buddies. He didn't want anyone else to know.

"That's what mah boss wanted meh to tell yah…" He said, shrugging a shoulders.

"But?" The Praxian asked, arching an eyebrow, guessing there was something else his friend wanted.

"But I know mah limitations bettah than anyone" answered the Special Ops, smirking. "Yer the one who can compute eight thousand patterns in less than five kliks, not meh. Plus, yah already processed tha ship, didn't yah?"

"As protocol stablishes." The law enforcer assured, stressing with a nod.

"Then, here's mah offer: we keep working on this together; but yah pass yer reports about the subject directly tah meh…"

"Avoiding Flux finding out that you haven't gotten rid of me." Prowl completed. "So that's why you wanted to meet here…" He added, narrowing his optics.

The Polihexian grinned.

After agreeing on how to keep this under the radar, both Autobots left the place, and resumed their daily activities.

* * *

He was nearing the coordinates when the first obstacle came into sight: a Predacon. Where did the freaking beast come from?! The screeching noise was his only warning, before it overflew him, landing at the top of Kaon Walls. _"Scrap"_ he thought eyeing the place. _"That's the only way in…"_ The bridge was the only way to bypass the canyon surrounding the city… And something told him that the other doors were watched too. Humming, considering options, the hunter took another look toward the place where the beast was at the moment; then, he saw something even more unexpected: the Predacon transformed into an impressive bipedal-form. The hunter whistled at the transformation process. _"Far more advanced than the history files thought…"_ was his only thought, as the creature looked away.

His optics, meanwhile, went back to the bridge. It was the only way across… But nobody said he had to cross it from _above_. Smirking, he switched forms. A beast-former too, he had no issue walking along the wall, eventually positioning himself beneath the bridge. _"Time to go"_ As fast as he could, he got to the other side, and started looking for another way in.

The waste pipes would do… Having being an industrial city, Kaon had plenty. So he crawled toward the nearest one and cut off the bars so he could get in; once out of view, the bot checked his current position and started following the ducts. Eventually, he would arrive to his provided coordinates… If he could find his way around the maze he just walked into…

Arriving to a fork, he couldn't help but stare at the dozen of possible ways to take; each of which would eventually lead to another fork, and so on.

"Ugh… Sometimes, I hate my job…" He sneered, head and shoulders dropped.

Without many options, he kept walking. If not, at least to get out of this odour as fast as possible.

* * *

Next morning, the sun rose in the horizon as if nothing would've ever happen…

Nothing farther from the truth…

Drift groaned and dropped his stance, uncrossing his legs and rubbing his optics. Meditating wasn't helping; not when he knew that there was a hunter on the planet, and that he had no clue as of what the guy's mission was. Nor he knew who it was… After all, not all hunters were considered 'dangerous'; some were more like canon-meat, but there were some he wished not to encounter again. Lockdown among them… He was their self-proclaimed leader, and was strong enough as to ensure that all challengers would be defeated promptly. Drift never did fight him for his post. He never felt inclined to lead. But he did battle Lockdown once, when he betrayed the Decepticons. He could still remember the desert planet where the green and black bot found him; he could still see the battle… But, most importantly, he could still see Lockdown glaring at him from above that rock… Only to turn and leave.

Sighing, he crossed his legs again, just so he could lain his elbows on them and, then, rest his face on his hands. Why? Why did the hunter let him go back then? He was tired, wounded, and his guard was down at the time, too busy trying to save his best friend ―to no avail. It was the perfect chance to either capture or finish him, depending on what orders he had. So why didn't he do it?

The door opening behind his back made Drift peek over his shoulder, only to see Jazz walking his way. The mech had a data-pad on his hand, containing evidence from the stealth ship they found at Staniz; it was recently given to him by his Amica Endura. Turns out that Prowl had been trying to identify the pilot; but, so far, he was empty-handed. That was why the Polihexian decided to come to his man, hoping that he might have an idea of who their mysterious 'Con was, after seeing the collected evidence from the crash.

Drift blinked a couple times, not so sure if he would be able to perform such task; after all, the stealth ships looked exactly the same from the inside. Unless the hunter forgot something with its name behind, then he had doubts whether an ID was possible… Nonetheless, he nodded. He would give it a try.

Thankful with the knight, the mech with the visor gave him a data-pad containing images from the inside, and pictures from the recovered items. Taking a look, Drift was about to shake his head, until he saw a photograph of the control panel and mainframe. The codes… They weren't written in cyber-standard. He zoomed in and frowned, trying to figure which dialect it was. It may give him a clue…

"Ah'll tell Prowler tah make a linguist take a look into it." Jazz promised, nodding and already messaging his friend. "Do yah think it's from the colonies?" He asked.

Colonies… Yes, there were some who came from the colonies.

Making an effort, the white and orange mech attempted to remember names and faces; unfortunately nothing was coming back to him. Eventually, he shook his head and returned the data-pad with a sigh and an apology.

"Dat's fine, Drift." Jazz said, patting the knight's back in reassurance. "We know yah tried."

"I'll contact you, shall I remember anything else." The knight promised.

Nodding too, the Special Ops turned to leave. Nonetheless, the moment he opened the door, he stopped and turned to check on his man, worried for his recent behaviour. The Drift he remembered from a couple years ago was full of energy, and always trying to keep everyone in high spirits; but the one that has been showing up to work as of lately…

And, indeed, Jazz was faced with the orange and white mech's back. He hadn't moved an inch. The knight was still eyeing the floor in a depressing way, with his shoulders sagged, and his legs dangling from the ventilation tube he was using as a seat. This was no meditation… This was brooding.

Deciding better not to pry, the Polihexian walked away, trying to go unnoticed by his subordinate; but couldn't help to stop and write something down on his data-pad again. Something changed overnight within the orange and white bot, ever since the footage showing Scorponok; something was haunting his friend… Unfortunately, he didn't have any answers.

"Not _yet_." He muttered, putting the pad away and resuming his way.

* * *

He nearly got lost three times. _Three fragging times_. Who on Cybertron designed these lines?! Groaning he kept walking without even thinking of stopping to rest. He already lost precious time trying to orientate himself, and he imagined that the sun was setting, considering the time; besides, the others would be waiting for him to check in. He had to move fast…

* * *

 _He was back at the alleyway where he met Gasket. It was empty now, since everyone was fighting the war somewhere; only a few leakers were still there, surviving somehow. All he could see were scared optics that scattered into the dark corners of the long street as he passed, and Decepticon graffiti that was starting to fade away._

 _Sneering at the memories he wanted to leave behind, the red-eyed mech glared at his surroundings._

 _"I know you're here!" He finally called. "Come out and face me, scum!"_

 _The challenge seemed to work as a blaster was shot his way, missing his frame by mere inches. In the distance, a blue figure that seemed to come out of thin air was already running for it._ "That's a new one…" _He thought, as he resumed pursuit, only to be intercepted by a red mech who was sporting the Autobot badge on both forearms._

 _They both rolled on the floor, before he was capable of kicking the 'Bot off him; before delivering him a punch across the jaw. The red guy massaged the zone, and took his blasters out… A set (unfortunately) much more powerful than his own…_

 _"So you want the horns, huh?" The Autobot asked, taking aim. "You got them, 'Con…"_

 _He turned tail, and looked for cover as the other warrior opened fire._

* * *

Drift woke up to reality with a start, only to come face to face with the floor of his bedroom. Groaning, he checked his surroundings until he convinced himself that there was no danger, that he wasn't a Decepticon anymore… He was at his apartment. He was home. Checking his inner chronometer, the knight also realized that it was late night. _"Back to berth…"_ he told himself, crawling into the medium-sized metallic slab, and dropping himself onto it with a tired grunt. He laid on his stomach for a while, staring into the distance and pondering over the memories that were now returning to him, from when he was…

With a sigh, he turned around, and stared his ceiling; one arm behind his head, the other lying across his midsection. It took a couple hours for him to finally admit that recharge wasn't coming. _"Maybe I should give it one last try"_ he thought, sitting up and crossing his legs Indian-style, before closing his optics. Meditation usually helped… But not recently. Not since Blackout's return; not to mention the other hunter who was yet on the wind. Drift tried to remember the pictures shown to him by Prowl, but… If there was anything to give away the Decepticon's identity, it was eluding him. _"Focus…"_ the knight told himself, taking a deep vent. There had to be something, somewhere.

Unfortunately, the meditation wasn't helping at all. It only brought back more and more memories he preferred to left buried and forgotten.

* * *

 _It was one of his first missions as a hunter: an Autobot stole information from one of their largest outposts, and was on his way back to the Prime's stronghold. If the data was received by the leader, then the Autobots would know where to strike in order to cause significant damage to the Decepticon's agenda. He, and a few others, had to track down and intercept the bot, before he disappeared behind enemy lines. Three hunters were dispatched for this endeavour: Shatter, a red and black femme with a silver tongue and an ice-cold spark, specialist in tracking down com-link frequencies; Airachnid, another femme whose beast-mode allowed her to maneouver even in the worst possible environments; and him, of course, the youngest hunter who also happened to be a speedster and sharpshooter. Deadlock knew far too well that this was a test… If they managed to stop the spy, then he would've proven himself worthy of the uniform._

 _But, currently, the three of them were leaning against a wall, nearby one of Cybertron's main highways. Waiting._

 _"Getting bored?" Airachnid suddenly asked him with one of her smirks._

 _"Just wondering how much longer it will take…" He begrudgingly answered, glaring at the empty road. Then, he turned to look at Shatter. "Are you sure we're at the right place?"_

 _"Yes. The com-link remains open… Idiot." She muttered, digits on her right audio, where her decrypting antenna was._

 _The mech groaned, leaning his back against the wall and crossing his arms, chin fallen upon his chest and optics closed._

 _The spider chuckled._

 _"You're not a patient guy, now, are you?" She asked, mockingly, before being hushed by the other femme._

 _"There it is." Shatter instructed, pointing at a small blue figure that came running down the highway._

 _A femme._

 _"That's the, oh, so-hard-to-catch Autobot? It's a freaking two-wheeler!" Deadlock barked, gesturing toward the running warrior._

 _"Huh… Easy prey, then." Airachnid mused out loud before jumping towards the road._

 _Without much effort, they saw her crawl behind one of the pillars, watching the two-wheeler intently; she was waiting for an opening… And, finally, the blue femme stopped and took a look around before go back to her com-link… Dropping her guard. Two seconds later, the beast-former captured her with her sticky webs ―which always unnerved him―, pinning her against another pillar. In one swift move, the black and golden femme jumped out of her hiding and switched to bipedal-form to approach her prize. For an instant there, the two-wheeler locked optics with the 'Con, before Airacnhid covered her completely._

 _The Autobot was captured. Mission was over…_

 _That's it, until a blaster fire almost hit Airachnid, alerting them: there was a sniper, probably some backup for the blue femme._

 _Shatter told Deadlock to cover her, while she jumped out of hiding and, taking her airborne mode ―she being a Triple Changer―, went to take care of the hidden bot. Meanwhile, the beast-former served as a distraction._ "Something isn't right" _he thought, peeking out of his cover. This was far too easy… The bot described in the mission was hard to catch. Many tried already. This couldn't be it…_

 _That was when he saw it: driving at a lower street loop, another Autobot was speeding away. Announcing he was on pursuit to his partners, Deadlock switched to vehicle-mode and went after the red and yellow bot who sped as fast as he could the moment he caught a glimpse the car behind him on his mirrors. Putting metal to the pedal, both of them started to sweep through the streets._ "We're getting too close…" _according to his systems, they were almost at Autobot territory. He had to stop him before he got any further._

 _Switching modes again, the hunter aimed for his opponent's tires, hitting the two from the rear. Thanks to this, the other bot ―a mech, judging by the yelp that came out when he lost control― swirled a couple times, before being forced to change to bipedal-mode. Indeed, it was a tall and lean, red and yellow mech. He was wearing both, a visor and a mouth-plate, so there was no way for him to tell how he looked, nor what face he was making. Not that he needed it… The moment he stabilized himself, the Autobot pulled out a crossbow._

 _Deadlock dodged the attack without breaking a sweat._

 _"Old fashioned guy, aren't you?" He mocked, before pulling out his blasters again._

 _The Autobot took cover behind the first wall he could find. The hunter did the same, just in case. Peeking out, he caught the red bot already prepared to shoot; so he went back into hiding before the arrow hit him. It flew past him, and ended at some building. Angered, Deadlock came out of his hiding and starting shooting against the other mech's hiding, pinning him on place. He had to remember his mission: he had to bring the bastard back to base. Alive._

 _"Here Atomizer requesting immediate backup!" He heard the bot say. "Is **anyone** nearby my coordinates?!"_

«Received. Stay put until our arrival. » _Another voice, cold and calculating, said over the com-link._

 _"Not that I have much of an option, sir!"_

 _During this conversation, Deadlock got close enough to punch the guy and leave him unconscious. Then he called back to his team, informing them of his discovery. Shatter sent some drones to drag the Autobot away immediately… Right before engine noises made the hunter run and hide._

 _A swarm of Autobots appeared shortly after. Among them were a Praxian and a Polihexian…_

* * *

Eventually he stopped trying, and simply remained there, glaring holes into his wall. Why couldn't he be of any help?! This was so frustrating! He used to be a hunter! He should know how to deal with these guys! _"Alright, I just need to take a step back and think"_ he told himself, taking a deep vent and giving this another try _"The men hunters fell when Cybertron went black; we split up. Those who remained together became bounty hunters. Plus, Blackout wasn't the brightest light in town, so he can't be alone…"_ He considered, rolling his optics on the last part. _"The wrecked stealth ship confirms it. The panels weren't set in cy-standard…"_ He hummed at this thought, frowning and placing his chin on one of his palms. _"Jazz said it may be a dialect from one of the colonies… Ugh… This would be so much easier if I could bring my processor to remember if there was someone from the colonies among the unit…"_ Groaning, he massaged his temples. _"Airachnid? I mean, she was a beast-former, but… She went rogue a long time ago."_

However, even when every atom within his body told him that the femme wasn't the person they were looking for, the moment he thought of that spider-like bot, another picture came into his mind. There was another hunter who was a beast-former, an Eukarian. What was his name again? Maybe he was the one piloting that ship.

Taking another glance at his chronometer, Drift decided that it was for the best to go back to recharge. He could contact Prowl in the morning.

* * *

Meanwhile a purple, golden and black figure was wandering around Kaon, using the old waste lines. Once at the coordinates, he got out and covered his tracks before eyeing the building he was headed to: Darkmount. It amazed him that the Autobots preserved it, even though it was simply as a museum. The bot simply snorted mockingly before using his beast-form to climb up the wall, until he could find a good entrance point. A window would make the trick.

As he neared one, the shadows of a couple of guards made him back off a little, until the hallway was clear. In one swift move, he leaped in and switched modes again, landing on one knee. Taking a careful glance to both sides, he searched for the closest access to the tower's mainframe. The faster he downloaded the info, the faster he would leave.

"Did you hear something?" One of the guards asked the other, turning to look behind them.

The other bot turned too, but ended up shaking his head.

"Funny, I could swear…" He listened carefully once again, but ended denying with his head too. "Nothing. Forget it. Must be the sleep catching up on me…"

The moment they walked off, a figure carefully came off the ceiling. _"Amateurs…"_ He thought with a smirk before opening the door closest to him and sitting at the nearest terminal. Even though the mainframe suffered massive damage ―thanks to Shockwave's antics when the Autobots found him hiding at the tower, three-stellar cycles ago―, many files were still intact enough, including the one he was looking for. It contained nothing but a bunch of names, though…

Shrugging it off, he plugged the flash drive in and downloaded the entire thing. Once it was all inside the disc he brought, the mech activated his com-link and called back to his superior.

"I got it."

« _Good. Proceed as planned._ » Came the gruff answer.

"Understood." That said, he hung up and started to make his way out.

Exiting from the same spot he entered, the mech stared down to the city. Soon enough, he made his way toward an alley, where he brought out a small data-pad and inserted the drive to transfer downloaded data, only to realize… It was corrupted and incomplete. In fact, when he tried to run the program, the only thing he saw was the law enforcers logotype and the word "classified" written all over it. _"Scrap…"_ cursed the hunter, as he realized that the Autobots got to the mainframe first. This complicated everything. _"It would seem that I have one more stop to make"_ , with that in mind, he went to exit the city as fast as he could. Iacon's police department had something he needed…

* * *

Much to Prowl's surprise, considering how their last meeting ended, Jazz was standing at his office's door, next to Drift, asking if they could come inside for a minute. The Praxian had to blink his wonder away for a couple seconds, just to convince himself that it wasn't a figment of his imagination, nor his processor playing tricks on him after pulling too many joors of afterhours. After the situation settled in, the law enforcer finally nodded, and invited the two mechs to enter; meanwhile, he tried to put away a holographic map he was working on. Alas, he knew it was already too late, and that Jazz noticed what it was: the probable courses from all attacked trading ships so far, and indications of the estimated times and coordinates where each was assaulted. It wasn't a surprise in the Polyhexian optics. Knowing his Amica Endura, it was obvious that he would eventually try to locate the source of any problem, including rogue bounty hunters.

"What's up, Prowler?" Jazz chuckled, grinning like he always does.

"For the last time: stop calling me that" groaned the captain, narrowing his optics. It was too early in the morning to be dealing with his best friend's nonsense… He hadn't even finished his cube yet, nor has read the data-pad containing the forensic lab's results on the stealth ship.

His friend simply laughed off the remark, making him hiss and lower his door-wings.

He could never understand how the Polyhexian was able to be so cheerful _all the fragging time_. In fact, the door-winger could still remember a few missions where they couldn't recharge for cycles (always expecting a Decepticon to find them wandering inside their territory), and, yet, Jazz never seemed to be in down spirits. In fact, he used to crack jokes at how tired he looked… More than once, he wondered whether he became Amica Endura with a lunatic.

Although smirking at the remark over the nickname, the Special Ops remained silent, taking seat, and allowing his friend to take a sip from his morning Energon. It was evident that the white and black bot had not recharged the night before, and knowing Prowl, he wouldn't do any smart question until his processor catches up with his body; so it was for the best to wait up for a little bit.

"Now, why are you both _here_? Did you change your-…?"

"Nope" Jazz rejected, straightforward.

"…mind?" The Praxian finished anyway, allowing himself to sigh at the interruption. Figured that much already, though. "So, to what do I owe your visit? Because you will never make me believe is merely social" he wondered, taking another sip of his breakfast, and leaning against his chair's backrest, door-wings seemingly relaxed.

"Ah'm here merely 'cause of him" informed the Polihexian, pointing at his companion.

Prowl's inquisitive optics were on the knight at this remark. The young mech knew it was his turn to take word and explain:

"The dialect I saw… I think it might've been Eukarian." He said.

Instantly, the law enforcer let the half-drank cube on the desk and grabbed the data-pad he had been carrying all morning, scrolling through the information contained. Finally, he arrived to the linguist's results; and, just as the white and orange guessed, it was, indeed, Eukarian. Arching an optic-ridge, the Praxian went back to the knight, anxious to hear his theory…

Drift understood that he was in the right track, so, nodding proceeded with what he knew. He told the two mechs that, back when he was among the hunters there were two bots who were perfect for missions that required upmost stealth. Two Eurakians, to be precise. Their beast-forms gave them access to places others couldn't go; an ability that secured them a place inside the troops, despite of their… Issues… Such as giving the creeps to everyone else around them, reason why they pretty much made an alliance of their own; something that seemed to be strengthened due to their alt-modes: both of them shared the same beast-form, which made them part of the same 'tribe', or something like that. Nevertheless, one could tell they didn't trust one another…

He remembered the femme's designation was Airachnid; but she went rogue mega-cycles ago, and, being a natural survivor, last thing she would've done would be return. Drift couldn't say it for sure, but something within his spark was telling him that Lockdown was yet the hunters' leader; and, if it was so, then nobody who double-crossed him would be foolish enough to try to re-join the crew.

Now, when it came to the male beast-former, he couldn't remember his designation, since they never spoke nor ended on the same mission… Never. But he did know that the guy was cunning, and resourceful. He was often sent to long-term missions because of that.

Even though those two would never put their lives in the hands of the other, given they both had questionable loyalty, many thought that, when Cybertron finally fell, they ran together. Alas, the stealth ship was telling Drift that said assumption was false…

"Are you absolutely sure that it couldn't be Airachnid's doing?" Prowl asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the backrest. "From what you're telling, it could be any of them."

"No…" The knight sighed, shaking his head. "When she bailed, the news spread through the troops. Fast." He said, lowering his gaze, elbows on his tights. "Lockdown simply decided not to waste time with her, because she was obviously trying to avoid both Autobots and Decepticons…" He shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first in backing down when we lost the planet, thinking the war was lost for everyone. Many others did the same."

The Praxian acknowledged that comment with a deep nod while considering his words and understanding the logic behind the young mech's speech. Then again, from what he could understand, Drift didn't know everyone among the hunters; so, it could be someone completely different of which he had no knowledge, whatsoever. Even then, he had to thank the help…

"Well, he's a stranded beast-former, without resources of any kind. It shouldn't be too difficult to catch him." The law enforcer stated, finally, turning to look at his Amica Endura.

"I wouldn't bet on that." Drift interrupted, making the other two mechs turn to look at him with surprise. "He's a master in avoiding unwanted attention; and, when it comes to resources, he was an inventor. He may just engineer his tools out of scrap he finds lying around." He told them, before frowning. "All men hunters were specialists in survival, captain. Do **_not_** take them lightly. Not a single one of them."

"We won't." Prowl promised with a nod, eyeing his best friend on the process, who nodded as well. "Thank you for your cooperation."

The knight was about to say something else when he got interrupted:

"Drift, wait for meh outside." Jazz asked the knight, who nodded and complied. Then, the Polihexian lost his grin and locked gazes with his Amica Endura. "If he's right, and it's not Blackout, then the case is all yours, Prowler." He said, leaning against the backrest, and placing an elbow over it. "Flux is only interested in that guy…"

The Praxian couldn't hide his confusion and interest about that statement, even though he knew that no answer was coming; so he didn't even bothered to ask, and simply agreed silently. Jazz would give him more information if necessary… Eventually. For now, he had things to do; and so did the Special Ops, reason why the visitor got to his feet and took his leave; he had to inform his discovery to Flux.

However, as soon as he opened the door and stepped outside, the mech with the visor realized that he just tripped over a setback: Drift was gone…

* * *

 **Trivia 1: anyone guessing who the blue two-wheeler femme was? ;)**

 **Trivia 2: the idea of Airachnid coming from Eukaris comes from the comics; the fact that she went rogue was taken from _Transformers Prime_. Also, about the misterious beast-former hunter, here's a clue: he was one of the Predacons from _Beast Wars Transformers_...**

 **Now, I'm sorry to tell you that updating is going to come slow from now on... I don't have much time to write as of lately, nor will for a while. Sorry.**

 **Hope you liked this chapter!**

 **See ya!**


	6. Drifting

**So, so, so, so sorry! I didn't realize this fic has been on standby ever since March! Oh, frag...**

 **Skyshadow54** **: thanks for your comments! Yup, that was our favorite, yet temperamental, two-wheeler! Haha! I'm glad you liked Drift's flashbacks, because there will be plenty up ahead!**

 **Drift: If you remember to update, you mean...**

 **I will! At my own pace... I gotta job to keep, after all...**

 **Also, yup; Prowler isn't a big fan of morning shifts, especially when he just pulled a bunch of afterhours the night before. Jazz, on the other hand, could probably spend a month without recharging, and never show exhaustion XD**

 **Guest** **: once again, thanks and happy really, really, really, utterly,** ** _incredibly_** ** _late_** **Easter! Sorry, for not answering sooner!**

 **...**

 **Again, I'm basing this story a lot more on the comic books than other fanfics of mine within this arc. Personalities of bots, for so, comes mostly from said comics; Blackout, Scorponok, Dropkick and Shatter comes from the movie-verse, though... And, well, Airachnid comes from _Prime_.**

 **Now, the idea of the informants comes from _Spotlight: Drift_ , and the scene with the battle simulator was based both in _The Hunger Games: Catching Fire_ and the scene were Optronix is training in _Shattered Glass_.**

 **Warning: English isn't my mother language, so there may be some grammar issues around here.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own _Transformers_ franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro.**

* * *

 **-FIVE-**

 **DRIFTING**

Drift was many things but an idiot… He saw the map and the charts, at the Praxian's office; he knew what his plan was: find the lair and face the hunters to stop the attacks once and for all. It wasn't a real plan… It was suicide. Nobody challenges those guys on their own turf. _"I should know…"_ He thought with a sigh, before return his gaze to the landscape ahead. He was standing at one of those panoramic spots that were built all over Cybertron, leaning against the glassy security riel; he had a clear view of Iacon's Plaza, and the pedestrians going across it; there was, also, a staircase to get there, right beside him. But the bot had no intention to move, even if the scenery was pleasant. He sighed again, tiredly, remembering that these places were there before the war too, but were among the first things lost in the fighting. Sadly, the mech realized that he has never stood on one before…

His past… It was better to leave it behind; that's what he always thought about the matter. But, unfortunately, his mistakes seemed to be incredibly relentless when it comes to reappear and bite him on the aft. If only time could be rewind…

"There you are!" Someone called behind his back, making him turn around. Indeed, Jazz had finally found him. "What do you think you're doing, running off like that?! I told you to wait!"

The white and orange mech couldn't help but arch and optic-ridge toward the bot that was jogging up to him, suddenly realizing that he had no accent at all.

The Polyhexian, at first, stared back, not understanding the quizzical look. It actually took him a good couple of minutes to realize what surprised his companion; but, once he did, the white bot couldn't stop himself from laughing wholeheartedly at the knight's stunned face.

"I lost my accent mega-cycles ago! I just use it to drive other bots crazy" explained the lieutenant, grinning from audio-receptor to audio-receptor, and crossing his arms. "Nonetheless, I tend to drop it whenever I'm especially serious about something, and you almost gave me a spark-attack back there." He added, his lips falling into a thin line.

"Sorry, sir. I simply needed to get out of there and calm down." He apologized, as his optics started to search for the Plaza, peeking over his shoulder.

"You aren't being completely honest, though. I can tell…" Jazz indicated, frowning behind his visor.

"How?"

The shorter mech chortled and smirked.

"It's my job, kid! And, modesty aside, I'm the best in it; so…" He took another step toward his companion. "Wanna tell me what happened? Or do I have to find out by myself?"

Drift remained silent for a moment, his optics locked on the many bots that were walking around without a care in the world; many of them stopped to take a look at the golden statue that stood at the center ―one of the original Primes, no doubt; Prima, judging by the sword it held in one hand. Then, he turned to look at the Polyhexian and, shaking his head, walked away, using the stairs.

Jazz's jaw fell slightly agape at this, as he saw his subordinate grew farther with each step. He couldn't deny that the knight has become somewhat distant since the hunters' reappearance, and, in a way, he should've expected him to not want to share his thoughts… But he never expected something like this. _"Not a good sign"_ he thought, deciding to let him be, for the moment. Best not to push the knight too far, too fast. He would wait and watch, hoping that the white and orange mech would eventually give away his ponderings. Jazz strolled away, confident of his decision.

When it comes to patience games, nobody has ever defeated him yet.

Meanwhile, Drift waited for the Polyhexian to go away, before return to the highway and, transforming, speed back to his apartment. Many angry honks were heard around him, next to very colorful words; but he wasn't hearing them. His mind was set in only one goal…

The moment he arrived to the building where he lived, the young knight sprinted in order to catch the elevator, which's door was already closing; and, apologizing for scare a poor old timer out of his metal, the warrior punched his floor's number and waited patiently until the doors opened for him once again. Then, he apologized again and ran to his own place.

At his bedroom, the knight kneeled over his berth, facing the wall at its headboard, where he had a few built-in shelves holding wax, sharpening stones ―his swords required a _lot_ of maintenance after all―, and other stuff like that. Moving a few things out of the way, his hands went straight to the bottom of the shelf in the center, the biggest one, and shook it a bit, loosening the lid of a false wall; behind it, there was a box. The moment his fingers made contact with it, his vents hitched for a nano-klik, and his optics closed tightly, optic-ridges frowning. He hadn't open this box in mega-cycles… Never wanted to. In many occasions he thought of tossing it into a smelting pit, and forget all about it, and its contents. Right now, he was wishing he did…

Sighing, he pull it out and climbed off his bed, placing the container on it. The mech stared at the black, squared case's lid. The lock still on place. Drift's processor was wavering, coming back and forth with reasons to either open it, or put it back where it was. _"Scrap it all"_ was the winner, as he bit his lip and removed the lid, showing just a very few objects within, including an old blaster he hasn't hold in his hand since his optics turned blue; but, what he truly was looking for was…

"Aha!" He cheered, finally.

In his hand lied a small package of coordinates that was given to him during the war… By Lockdown himself.

… … …

 _A meeting… That was a first. Usually they were known for doing the job despite of each other, not for liking each other's company; and he was more than aware than at least one of the faces in that room would gladly march to the front, than rather being here. Airachnid, for starters, seemed ready to either flee or attack; she was leaning her cheek against her clawed fingers, optics narrowed in boredom, while her left leg (crossed over the right one) started balancing one way to the other… Makeshift wasn't in a much different position._

 _Finally, Dropkick decided to break the silence by growling the question they all had been asking themselves:_

 _"Why the **frag** are we here?!"_

 _With an impeccable time, the door hissed open at that very moment, and the tall, green and black figure of their self-proclaimed leader entered the small room. Lockdown took a look around, grimacing with something similar to disgust at the short amount of people actually present. Nonetheless, he didn't bother to ask where in Cybertron the others were ―he would deal with their lazy afts later._

 _"Alright, this is the situation" said the 'leader', calling all optics to him (and waking up a few who decided to take a nap while they waited), "Cybertron's lost, as surely you all know by now… Its core has gone dark already, and a mandatory evacuation was called." He informed, once again inspecting each hunter's optics._

 _"Evacuation? Where to?" Shatter questioned, suddenly interested._

 _"For some of us: to some lieutenant's ship; the rest is on its own…" Lockdown stated, suddenly locking gazes with Airachnid, and keeping it in place longer than necessary._

 _The femme didn't flinch an inch. Rumors of her wanting to ditch were known all over the faction; nobody said anything, simply because it was best not to be on her blacklist… Probably, not even their 'daring leader' would step on her way toward the exit door. In fact, there were big chances for him to go and **show her the door**. Not even he liked her after all…_

 _"However, there's going to be a pre-established meeting point, in case anything happens. Said place is already programmed within this cache" explained the green and black mech, suddenly showing a small and rectangular object to all presents. "You'll have only one copy, each. So if you're worrying about losing it, I suggest you memorize the coordinates; because there'll be no security copy. Understood?"_

 _Once his speech was over, he gave one cache to each hunter; and, to some, he also handed a data-pad over, indicating which lieutenant he or she was supposed to report to. In his case, his orders read: Turmoil. The ship left at dusk…_

... ... ...

Something within Drift was telling him (yelling, actually) that it was a bad idea; a ridiculously, stupid, and awful idea… But it was the _only_ idea he had at the moment. The need to know whether Prowl was even a little bit close to discover the lair of the hunters was too great for him to ignore; yet, at the same time, he was undecided, because doing it meant go back to be-…

With a vent, he started pacing around, trying to measure the smaller of two evils in order to make his choice. After all, one way or another, he would've to keep the Autobots away…

Because Blackout may not be the _only_ hunter in the premises…

* * *

This time, it was Slipstream's turn to make watch, and he didn't have any missions coming up. Not since they got word from their companion, explaining that there was some sort of delay with the plans that he needed to fix; thanks to which they had all day long to drive each other nuts… Joy.

The femme stretched her limbs, and kept her surveillance with a smirk on her face. It was as if nothing weird was going on; as if they didn't have _that guy_ crashing at their headquarters ―if this dump could be called 'headquarters' at all, after all, it was only half of a building; the other half was demolished long ago.

Blackout groaned loudly, thrusting his head backwards. He was sitting on a dusty staircase, leaning on both his elbows; he has been in similar positions all the time, whenever he wasn't out in the field. It was boring! Worse: he had to share roof with Slipstream! And the others, but they didn't bother him all that much… Still, it was mentally exhausting!

The femme jet chuckled, turning to dedicate an amused smirk to her companions.

"If you want, we can switch places…" She purred.

"Not a chance. I've been keeping watch for so long, that the rock I use as a chair now has a perfect impression of my can…" He rebuked, frowning slightly.

"Ugh… Didn't need the mental picture of that" grumbled the femme, looking away from her irritating companion. Then, as the silence started to become uncomfortable again, she looked at the chopper. "Any word yet?" She asked, arching an optic ridge.

The mech limited to shake his head, before getting up and telling his Mini-con to hook back onto his armor. Once he ensured the little one was safely latched behind his blades, Blackout made his way out of the room, and out of the building. Suddenly, he was needing to stretch his legs, so he was planning to walk around; maybe check on the "security systems" too. And by that, he meant the informants they had placed all over the planet. These were always an asset of the hunters, especially during the war; however, in his opinion, they weren't very effective… After all, everyone knew how it worked: if the money was the right amount, then anyone could have access to information held by those people. That included their current location ―although Lockdown was convinced that no informant would be so stupid, considering their current guest…

Blackout allowed himself to scoff, as he stepped out of the building, slowly making his way to the city ahead. _"Guest, really? That guy is a plague! I can't believe he actually picked him up! Anyone in its sane mind would've turned around and fled! I know I would…"_ The hunter thought with a sigh, before stopping to lean against the wall of what, in another life, used to be a store. He decided to stay there, watching the city in the distance, arms crossed.

Scorponok chirped, indicating he wanted down; so the warrior opened the blades on his back, allowing the Mini-con to detach himself. As usual, the scorpion made a little backflip before landing on his legs, which he immediately started to stretch, happy of feeling earth. It didn't pass long before he started digging, until he disappeared beneath the surface.

Much to his regret, Blackout felt his lip tugging as a smirk made its way onto his face. Ever since he picked up this fellow, he has had one rule: to not get too attached. Mini-cons were delicate, each on its own way; so the hunter was always aware of the huge chances of him losing his little partner. Even then, it seemed like his spark did form a small bond with the symbiont.

A few minutes afterwards, the small creature resurfaced; covered in dust, but chirping in happiness. All signs of stress were completely gone.

"Happy now?" Blackout questioned the small bot, lying at his feet. A loud chirp was his only answer. "That makes _one_ of us…" He added, going back to the city's profile, before checking over his shoulder. "Son of a glitch. He's barely functional after that plasma storm, and yet he manages to boss us all around!" He berated, glaring at their lair, before going back to Scorponok who was looking at him intently. "Who does he thinks he is?" finished the mech, venting and crouching so he could pat his companion, who appreciated the attention.

"Don't let him hear you."

Startled, the mech rose to his feet, aiming his blasters toward the intruder, only to find himself pointing toward the silver and purple femme. Even when they weren't actual enemies, and there was no evident reason, the temptation to pull the trigger was there… But he knew better than that, and put his guns away… Growling.

"Don't sneak upon me like that, Slipstream!" He yelled at her.

"As if you would've…" She retorted, smirking.

Even when she had his blaster inches away from her face, the femme wasn't fazed… Not a bit.

Before he could even ask, she turned around and gestured him to follow. Their leader wanted to see them both. _"Another assignment; go figures…"_ thought Blackout, before opening his blades again, so Scorponok could attach himself. Once the Mini-con was secured, he started walking behind the Seeker. With some luck, they would be briefed together, but will have separated missions…

At least, he hoped so.

* * *

It didn't take a genius to know when something bothered Crosshairs, considering that even a blind bot would be able to see his glaring face, and the way in which he sat ―all alone at the corner, slouching with his elbows over the table, practically strangling the cube he had between hands. Neither it took a lot to understand that, in moments such as this one, it was for the best to leave him be, until he calmed down; after all, his bad temper was very well-known. Only idiots would go and push his buttons further…

Well, only idiots and a very brave Polihexian.

"Whatevah did dat drink do tah yah?"

Jazz was standing next to his man, arms crossed and lips turned into a half-smile; his visor shone brightly. No doubt he was in a good mood that morning.

The green mech simply scoffed and took a large sip, roughly lifting the cube toward his lips, only to slam it down the table once he was done. If he had to be all too honest with his current boss, he didn't want to talk about it, and was hoping he would get the hint and leave him alone.

Of course, that wasn't the case…

The white mech simply sat across the table, wondering out loud if it was related to a mission, a femme, or a bar; all of which only made the paratrooper roll his optics and look away, still frowning.

"So neither." The Polihexian mused out loud, reading his expressions.

"Look, you're wasting your time. I won't talk about it, 'cause I _don't want_ to talk about it, alright?" The green mech retorted, rudely, leaning over the table. "I believe you'll understand the feeling…" He, then, added, backing away, crossing his arms and averting his optics.

Jazz's mouth fell into a thin, tight line as his face lowered for a minute, understanding the reference. Indeed, having being a Special Ops most of his life, he knew how to keep secrets from pretty much everyone; only a handful of bots would ever be able to say that he was absolutely honest with. Prowl among them, since they were Amica Endura, and partners during almost the entire war; and Prime himself, of course. But then again, who was able lie to the Boss Bot?

To the rest of the world, the Polihexian was only a partial picture. Some knew some details of him, others knew some other details; but he made sure that none of the information he parted from would compromise him, nor be too personal. Nonetheless, he was aware that he messed up the day before, when he reacted at the sight of Staniz ―not to mention the ship.

He dedicated a conveyed glance to his companion ―Crosshairs was staring down at the empty cube now, almost as if it just insulted him somehow. Many told him that teaming with the paratrooper and Drift was a huge mistake, since both of them had a reputation which wasn't always flattering. The green mech had always been known for his attitude ―'showoff, egomaniac, selfish, short-fused' were just some of the many things that his previous superiors wrote down on his profile and service sheet―; while the knight was always doubted for having been a 'Con in the past, and for refusing to explain his reasons to switch factions. But, aside from that, Jazz had to admit that his main reason to pick _them_ , out of all possible candidates, was that he kind of related to them… A little bit.

But, it was also thanks to this recognition that the Special Ops knew his way around the paratrooper's defenses.

"Ah guess Ah deserved dat one…" Jazz said, dipping his head a bit.

"You were born in Staniz, weren't you?" Crosshairs pushed, looking at his superior. Frown still on its place.

"Grew up there. Mah guardians wanted meh tah work at the factories" admitted, smirking and lifting his face for the other to see his relax posture. "Not mah thing, though. So, Ah skipped town; became Special Ops." He finished with a shrug. "Yah?"

The green warrior blinked once… Twice. Unamused, he looked away again, while softly mumbling 'Rydion'. It almost made the Polihexian smirk, but he was able to control himself and remained silent on the matter.

"Nevah told anyone 'bout mah native city, but my best pal" kept saying the white mech.

"Don't need to tell _me_ either, boss." Crosshairs interrupted. "Nor do I need to tell you what's bothering me." He, then, added with a cocky grin, an eyebrow arched.

Jazz's façade fell, as his lips, once again, fell into a thin line. The green mech simply chuckled and shook his head.

"Not my first rodeo either, boss."

"Yah worked in tha force, didn't yah?" The bot with the visor guessed, one elbow over the table, as he leaned in, studying his companion.

"Sorry. Not talking 'bout my past." The paratrooper finished the conversation, rising to his feet and grabbing his empty cube. "You're good, though. You made me spill where I come from; nobody had ever managed that much." He admitted, smirking at the shorter bot.

The lieutenant chuckled, before intertwining his fingers behind his head, visor locked onto his companion's optics. A wide grin on his face.

"Oh, really… Do yah think that's all Ah got from yah?" He challenged.

Crosshairs smirked and walked away to dispose of the empty glass, certain that the white bot was bluffing. Nobody knew where he came from, nor what he was before; he made sure of that. Otherwise, he would've been terminated already…

Jazz simply remained there for a couple more seconds, smiling to himself, before getting off his aft, and deciding it was high time for him to face Flux. He had some reports that needed to be delivered to that mech. If he had to admit it, he still was kind of dumbfounded from the conversation the director held with him; and, yet, he was already trying to figure out what the relationship between the two mechs (Flux and Blackout) was…

Being a commended Special Ops, the old chestnut-colored bot knew how to hide his markers ―facial expression, posture, and voice-tone were kept on neutral throughout the brief. But he met his match in the Polihexian… He _still_ saw indicators, here and there; unfortunately, not enough for him to tell what the guy was hiding. Alas, he could say that Flux was, indeed, withdrawing info. _"Question's what…"_ The white mech though, as he walked up to the elevator and pushed the button to the highest floor. As the numbers started to pass at the small screen atop the door, the bot's thoughts went back to that afternoon when he faced their director and, quickly, pulled out a data-pad where he double-checked some notes. _"It's still hard to believe…"_ the Polihexian thought, as he reread the one line that has been troubling him: Blackout used to be a Special Ops… But there was no record of him in the system, almost as if someone deliberately erased his profile.

Deep in thought, Jazz let out a hum, as he covered his chin with his fist, wondering if, maybe, Drift would know anything about it…

He would eventually find the knight at the combat simulator, battling a bunch of holographic enemies. He was blocking an incoming attack from a dummy, right on time to step aside from another incoming blow. Both avatars cancelled each other, and allowed the Cybertronian to move to the next target. Running to gain speed, the knight kicked the next hologram on the chest with one of his knees, falling forward with the dummy; then, drawing his swords, he stood his ground against another two fake opponents.

He managed to keep advancing.

Drift rolled forward, dodging an incoming attack, and took down another dummy, before turn around and block another. Another one came running from behind him; so, grabbing the dummy he was wrestling with, he took it off balance, and threw it to the approaching one.

Missing another dummy, the bot almost got pinned, but managed to break free…

… … …

 _He was pinned against the floor mat, the other guy using his whole weight to keep him on place. He growled, squirming, trying to break free. He heard his adversary sighing._

 _"Are you even **trying**?" The other bot asked._

 _"Do you actually want to help me?! Or you just enjoy to humiliate me?!" He retorted, patience running thin._

 _"Let me put it this way: you can either be trapped here, training with me, **or** you can get kicked out by Dai Atlas." His companion said, before humming and looking away as if trying to calculate. "How long you think a traitor Decepticon man hunter would last on his own?"_

 _"… I hate you…" He huffed, forfeiting the fight._

… … …

No. It wasn't the time to get lost in memories. He had to focus. _"Stay in the present."_ He told himself, punching away the next holographic avatar.

There was one right ahead. Frowning, he gripped his swords with all his might and charged, ready to strike, and…

Someone turned off the simulation, reason why his blades hit the floor and the white lights were back online. Startled, it took the knight a whole minute to understand what happened, and turn to look at Jazz who was gesturing him to get out of the room. Drift arched an eyebrow, but nodded and stood straight, putting his swords away.

Once outside, he found the Polihexian checking at a small screen that displayed the results of the exercise. Every Special Ops knew that the machine kept a throughout data of every single warrior that used it, reason why the white bot could see literally everything: from higher level achieved, to amount of hits received, and vital statistics.

Suddenly, Jazz whistled out loud as he moved away from the screen.

"Level fifty-nine! Dat's a new record; Ah can't get pass fifty-five…" He commented, grinning. "Yer a real somethin'!"

"Um… Thanks, I think…" Drift answered, unsure of how to deal with the flattering. "Is there something you needed?"

"Yeah, actually…" Slowly, the short mech pulled out a picture of Blackout and showed it to his companion. The white and orange bot frowned in confusion. "Ah gotta ask… Do yah remember if he evah said anything from his past?"

The knight arched an optic ridge and cocked his head, hands on his hip.

"Something like what?"

"City, job, friends; anything." The Polihexian insisted.

"Not really. The hunters… We weren't friends, quite honestly we didn't even like to work alongside each other; and, besides, when you're a 'Con, personal data can be later used for blackmail, so…"

"The smart move is to not say anythin' at all…" Jazz completed, receiving a nod from the other bot. "Well, was worth the shot." He commented, smirking and putting the picture away. "Thanks fer tryin'!"

That said, he tried to walk past the other mech, but was stopped by Drift's question:

"Was this to help Prowl?"

The lieutenant turned to observe his partner. The knight had his back turned on him, and his optics glued on the empty simulations' room; his shoulders were tense, almost as if he was waiting for a hit. Somehow, it made Jazz doubt what to answer, unsure of whether it would be beneficial or not to tell the truth to the younger mech. So he decided to leave it vague…

"Why?" countered the Special Ops.

Suddenly, Drift turned to look at him straight in the optic, surprising the other bot who, for once, didn't see his companion's reaction coming… The knight's usually gentle and warm eyes were hardened and cold, and narrowed in a frown. He looked a couple mega-cycles older, and Jazz was now perfectly capable of imagining him with red optics and a Decepticon badge. He almost doubted to be talking with the same guy he just did …

"You have to make the captain understand the danger he's getting into. None of you has ever fought a hunter before, you don't know how dangerous it is." He warned. "Please… I don't want to see anyone else harmed because of them…" He ended up pleading, recovering the same warm optics to which Jazz was used.

The lieutenant nodded, but had to make him understand that there wouldn't be any promises, before walking away from the knight. _"For a moment there… He was a completely different person. I wonder…"_ As he got out of the training room, the Polihexian checked the information he had logged in a particular nameless file, safely kept in his personal data-pad. He simply looked at it really quick, before storing the object back into his subspace, and resuming his way.

This whole case… It was bringing back the old Drift…

That couldn't be good…

* * *

"Deadlock has been located on Cybertron."

The leader's words made both of them widen their optics in sheer surprise. They all thought the guy ended up rusting at some remote corner of the universe after his betrayal.

"He's aiding Autobot law enforcers, therefore interfering with our actions." The tall mech kept explaining. "We can't risk the mission…" commented in a low tone, warily eyeing the door behind him, almost as if he was fearing that something would pounce out of it. "So, I've decided that one of you must journey there, and stop our former partner."

Both hunters exchanged a look, none of them too sure of whether they wanted to go toe to toe with that guy… Even when he was the youngest of them, Deadlock was the most dangerous. The fact that he was still alive after so long proved just how good he was.

"Well? Any volunteers? Or must I be the one choosing?" The green and black mech pressed, sneering and gritting his teeth.

Finally, Slipstream smirked and rose a hand. She would take care of the former hunter… In a permanent basis…

* * *

 **This is all for now! Hope you liked it!**

 **See ya next time! Please, let me know your thoughts!**


	7. Suspicion

**Hello! I know it's been a long while, but I've been busy with my jobs; in fact, I wanted to warn you about further updates: I will, probably, be absent from the site for a couple months, because I have my schedule completely full right now, meaning I don't have much free time to write; and, when I do, I'm so tired that I just don't feel like it. So, I'm really sorry to inform you that this will be the last update for a while.**

 **However, I'm not abandoning this fic, nor the other two I'm working on, ok? I'll resume my activity in Fanfiction as soon as I'm able.**

 **...**

 **S** **kyshado** **w54 :**

 **Hahaha! No, those two are, most certainly, _not_ friends! XD And, yes, Jazz knows things. Things the others wouldn't imagine...**

 **Also, yes, the old Drift coming back is not a good sign... for the hunters.**

 **If you want, Crosshairs is easy to bother... *pokes the green mech's leg* Right buddy? *The paratrooper proceeds to leave the room, grumbling something under his breath* Hey! Get back here! Uh... Good thing he isn't in this chapter...**

 **...**

 **Warning: English isn't my mother language, so there might be some gramar mistakes in my writing. Also, much of the beginning in this chapter comes out of the events that took place on my previous fic _Redemption_ , including Daybreak and Nightglider, two OCs of mine. Plus, the episode of Fortres Maximus comes straight out of the comics; I simply changed the fact as of why Prowl didn't answer the SOS in time.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own _Transformers_ franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro.**

* * *

 **-SIX-**

 **SUSPICION**

It was unnerving to come here, but after running out options, Prowl decided that this was the most logical way of action. So he swallowed his disgust and kept marching… Right into the depths of Iacon's max security prison.

After the last breakout three stellar-cycles ago, the joint's security was beefed up in every possible way, and in every level. Some of its current residents weren't exactly appreciating captain Prowl's policies about it, since it meant even more trouble for them, especially those who still believed that it was possible to repeat the escape. Nevertheless, the Praxian made sure to prove them wrong, and so did commander Ultra Magnus, as he helped the law enforcer to upgrade the prison's systems… All of which translated in the disgusting shouts that Prowl was receiving as he walked down the cellblock, flanked by two guards.

Every Decepticon in there knew who he was, reason why the ward didn't believe wise to allow him in; but, then again, the Middle Triplet was the new captain of Iacon's police department, a war hero, and former second/third in command of Optimus Prime. He knew how to make his point across, and, so, moved forward. Besides, he didn't like to be there, more than the prisoners liked to see him again. The Praxian wanted to be done with this as fast as possible.

Suddenly, his optics were called out by a shiny blue paintjob and a face he hasn't seen since his lone visit to Earth. He had to admit that a part of him was wondering if he was yet in one piece…

"Pharma." He called, making the prisoner look at him.

The moment he was recognized, the former Autobot turned his face away frowning, almost as if he was offended for seeing him there. Prowl simply kept walking without minding him any longer; his curiosity was satisfied. And, besides, this encounter made him remember that the isolation area wasn't just for Decepticons too dangerous to be put with the rest, but for traitors too. In fact, the mad doctor wasn't the only one who was wearing the same shield as he… A couple steps forward, he found himself face to face with Daybreak, Nightglider's twin. Yet, unlike the surgeon, this other guy was simply slumping in the farthest corner of his cell, just as he has been doing ever since he was tossed in there.

Prowl passed right in front of the cell, not even a shadow of being sorry for him crossed his mind. That guy chose his fate the moment he double-crossed his partners in the middle of a dangerous mission; and, worse of all, one of said partners was his very twin. The Praxian, sharing himself a bond with his two brothers, knew he would never feel any sympathy for someone capable of doing such thing.

"Here we are, sir." Finally, one of his escorts announced, stopping.

Nodding, the captain approached the cell and called the prisoner to come forward.

Soon, the reflection of a shiny, silver grey wing appeared in the back of the room, as the bot, who was lying on his bunk, got to his feet and walked up to the door. A pair of red optics and a face which Prowl hoped not to see again appeared.

"Well, well, well… This must be important for the infamous Prowl himself to come down of his tower, and mingle with the likes of me…"

"Cut the scrap, Starscream. I'm not in the mood." The law enforcer interrupted.

The Seeker simply smirked smugly at the Autobot, and leaned against the closest wall, arms crossed. It was evident he planned to behave like this for as long as the conversation lasted, mostly because he probably guessed that, if he came to see him, it was because he had something that Prowl needed. The problem was that he was correct, but the Praxian couldn't allow him to know that, otherwise he wouldn't talk unless there was a bargain.

"You were second in command…"

"Still am." The prisoner interrupted.

"You command no one from where you're right now, Screamer." Prowl pressed with a blank face. He couldn't let this guy read him. "As I was saying, you were second in command of the Decepticon army, meaning you knew the major part of the crew, is that correct?"

Starscream pursed his lips and arched an eyebrow.

"Is this an interrogation?"

"We're just talking" dismissed the law enforcer, shrugging a bit. "Now answer me." The Autobot pressed, frowning deeply.

"Oh, I see…" The Seeker's predatory smile returned. "It sounds to me like I have something you need, and you have something I want." He said, walking closer to the force-field keeping him from the outside world. He shrugged, and grimaced trying to show indifference. "I wouldn't mind to help a fellow Cybertronian…" The smile returned. "If…"

"I said cut the scrap." Prowl interrupted once again. "I'm not putting word on your favor, not after everything you've done." He stated, crossing his arms to show how firm he was in his convictions.

"Too bad. Guess none of us gets what we want then…" Starscream said, looking away, unimpressed.

The Praxian's scowl intensified, and he seemed ready to pounce onto the Decepticon, wasn't for the force field separating them. In fact, he was thinking about it… Alas he decided to, better, take a deep vent and calm down. He was working. He was in the middle of an investigation. He had to keep his head leveled.

So, he faced the Seeker with another tactic:

"Fine. You want to negotiate, let's negotiate." He said, making his escorts gasp in horror, and the 'Con grin in satisfaction. But the Middle Triplet hadn't shown his cards yet… "Here are my terms: you answer my questions, and I don't fill a form that would send your sorry aft all the way to Garrus-9; effect of immediately. Interested?" He taunted.

Starscream simply scoffed and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms; he was far too relaxed for the law enforcer's like.

"We _both_ know G-9 is no more…" stated the Seeker.

"Its max security level has been rebuilt last quartex, and is fully operational." The Praxian retorted, right hand on the side of his hip.

"And its ward?" The 'Con asked with a predatory smile. "Is he fully operational again?"

To hear him mentioning Fortress Maximus' fate made Prowl's Energon boil within his pumping system; something that became evident when his left hand clenched in a fist, while his jaw locked soundly. The memory of that day was both distant and yet too fresh in most of the Autobots who were law enforcers before the war started…

Maximus was one of the greatest prison wards there were, and the toughest of them all. When the armed conflict exploded on Cybertron, he remained at G-9 ―a barren asteroid used by their kind as a max security prison for eons, only the worst of the worst was sent there― where he received all war prisoners that Optimus ever sent his way, some of which was better to forget. _"And that included **that guy** …" _Prowl remembered, his shoulders squaring in tension at the memory of one particular Decepticon; one that decimated an entire battalion, before they were able to subdue him. Overlord. Rumor had it that Shockwave did something to him in an attempt of creating a super soldier for Megatron, but the experiment went south and the mech became a danger for both sides ―no wonder he was all alone when they managed to capture him. Of course, he was the kind of people you immediately sent to G-9, no questions asked; that was regular procedure, so he signed the orders…

It wasn't until much later that they came to know what became of the place after Overlord's arrival… He not only broke free before the guards could lock him away, but stormed the entire facility, destroying everything and everyone on his path. And it included the poor Fortress Maximus, who valiantly attempted to restrain him.

The worst part? The ward did send an S.O.S. as soon as Overlord went rampant; but it never arrived. Not in time, at least… Because Soundwave found the wavelength in which the prison transmitted and hijacked the signal for two quartex! The only reason they found out was because Jazz and Blaster took down the outpost where the silent 'Con was operating back then.

By the time the reinforcements arrived to the asteroid, it was far too late. The guards that were still alive were found entrenched inside the sick bay, tending to Fortress Maximus… who fell into stasis and hasn't come back online yet…

The Seeker's grin did nothing but grow at the lack of response, knowing better than anyone that his words got under the Praxian's armor. Nonetheless, he forgot _who_ he was dealing with… And even though Prowl was shell-shocked by the retort, he was far from giving up, and even further from admitting defeat at the hands of this 'Con. So, straightening up, and unclenching his jaw, he simply folded his hands behind his back before offering a new deal. One that Starscream would, most likely, accept: either he answer his questions, or he could bring Predaking and Grimlock to interrogate him instead.

Now _that_ made the jet grow a few shades paler, while his wings dropped behind his back in evident fear at the suggestion. Everyone knew of his last encounter with those beasts, and that they now were, by far, his worst nightmare ―even more than Megatron himself.

Without much of a choice, the Seeker pushed away from the wall he was leaning on, and finally answered the law enforcer's query, admitting that he knew most of the Decepticon army, as well as their formations.

The Middle Triplet almost smiled.

"What do you know of the men hunters?" He questioned, crossing his arms again.

The flyer arched an eyebrow at the strange question ―especially because not even he had thought of those guys in a very long time.

"They were mostly mercenaries. Megatron kept them close in case Soundwave detected a traitor, or for when there was a target too hard to get by regular foot soldiers" answered the commander with a shrug, not really understanding why the sudden interest in that group. "Anyway, they dissolved when the Exodus took place, and became bounty hunters. They even demanded _us_ for a payment whenever their services were required, so we simply stopped asking…"

"You abandoned them." Prowl corrected, frowning.

"They were more a hindrance than an actual asset at the time…" Starscream commented with an overdramatic sigh and a shrug. "Only one of them remained within the faction, and even _he_ betrayed Megatron when the time was right."

Drift. He was talking about Drift, there was no doubt about it.

"Say you needed their… _services_ , how did you contact them?" The Praxian asked, then.

The Seeker chuckled humorlessly and rolled his optics, before staring at his interrogator again.

"If that's what you want to know, then you're talking to the wrong mech. Only Megatron and Soundwave had their com-links' frequencies." He admitted with a smirk.

"And you?" The Middle Triplet pressed, arching an eyebrow. "You were the entire faction's second in command, were you not?"

Starscream allowed himself to laugh out loud at the remark.

"And since _when_ had _that_ ever actually mattered?!" He chortled again. "Don't fool yourself, Autobot! I might have been the Decepticons' commander, but the only bot who knew all the secrets was our 'liege'." Then, he grinned in a feral and predatory way, lowering his face. "The greatest the secret, the hardest he would share it."

"So, no honor among 'Cons… I'm shocked." Prowl said sarcastically, rolling his optics to add effect. "Then, I suppose it would be a waste of my time to even consider to ask _you_ for the hunters' lair, wouldn't it?" He added, both hands going to the sides of his hip.

"I have no clue where that is, or if there's even a lair to begin with." Starscream finally admitted. "The hunters operated outside the regular chain of command, and all decisions were made by Lockdown, their leader. Whenever they decided to stablish a physical meeting point or not, only another hunter would know."

Prowl's door-wings twitched at this last statement, as his processor put two and two together, reason why he simply marched away from the cell without even telling the guards he was done. At some point, he even seemed to jog, hurried to get out and call Jazz and ask him to meet… _Urgently_.

… … …

He passed the small cache from one hand to the other, stopping to glare at it from time to time. It felt almost as if the damn piece of tech was mocking him, tempting him to check out its data, but at the same time reminding the mech that he was no longer a 'Con, nor had to become one again. And, yet, if he didn't and someone got hurt because he didn't have the guts, he would never forgive himself.

Drift bit his lip, considering a third option: give this thing to Jazz and let him take the call. No, that was even _more_ spineless from him… Not to mention that the Polihexian would undoubtedly surrender the coordinates to Prowl in a spark-beat. _"This is ridiculous"_ he told himself, finally, with a long and heavy sigh. _"Even if I decided to take matters in my own hands, I have no means to actually get to the coordinates! And if I ask for a spaceship, officially, then Jazz and Crosshairs (and most likely that Praxian) will want to tag along; and I can't allow that!"_ He kept thinking, groaning and gripping his head. If he really wanted to do this, then he would have to go rogue… Again. This time, however, it would be difficult. It would hurt, because, unlike Turmoil, these people were his friends ―which, also, worked as a powerful reason to coax him into rolling down this road.

Finally, still undecided, he put the cache on one of the nightstands, and walked away. He knew he would've to make his mind soon, but for the moment, some fresh air would help; plus, he had to return to HQ before Jazz realized he left.

… … …

But the lieutenant wasn't looking for him, not at the moment. In fact, he was back at the plaza where he last saw the white and orange mech; and he was waiting. Sitting on a bench, pretending to read a data-pad, the Polihexian observed everyone who walked past him, searching for a familiar silhouette which finally arrived from behind him. Soon enough, there was a Praxian sitting next to him.

"Thanks for coming" said the newcomer, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Yeah, well; yah told meh it was urgent, so… What's up, Prowler?" The white bot wondered out loud, putting the data-pad away and uncrossing his legs.

"I think Drift isn't being completely honest with any of us" stated the law enforcer, frowning ever-so-slightly, while staring into his friend's visor.

Jazz's mouth tugged downwards a bit, in confusion. Sure, he knew both his men kept some secrets to themselves (lots of them, actually), but he didn't know whether that counted as lying, considering he was the champion when it came to withholding information. And Prowl was aware of that… Besides, it's not like he could hold it against the knight nor the paratrooper, especially considering that _he_ has been kind of lying to their faces these past few days too; even his Amica Endura was out the loop for now ―not that he was proud of it, considering their previous friendship…

"Whatcha mean?" The Polihexian asked, trying to get any more data before giving sentence.

The white and black mech sighed, looking ahead and leaning against the backrest.

"You know that I can 'read' patterns out of everything and everyone, right?" He asked, looking at his companion again.

The shorter bot nodded. Common knowledge; that was why Prime made the Praxian his main tactician.

"I've been trying to find one in the attacks, believing that, if I can isolate the quadrants where they usually take place, then…"

"Yah would be able to backtrack their hidin' place…" finished Jazz, receiving a heavy nod from his friend. "Ingenious." He conceded with a smirk.

"Or an absolute waste of time" countered the cop, surprising the Polihexian who wasn't following what he meant by that. "The data from the few witnesses I have was inconclusive, and all my reconstructions were nothing but hypothesis; so, in order to have more evidence, I went to speak with the only locked up 'Con who may have some idea of where the hunters are located."

"Yah can't possibly be meaning…"

"Starscream, yes."

Jazz rose to his feet in one jump at the confession, angry at his best friend for even considering that move. How could he take that call?!

"Are you out of your fragged processor?!" The white mech nearly shouted, dropping his accent. "That guy is as reliable as a broken compass, he would say anything that could possibly provide him any advantage!"

"It was either him or the cyclops; and we both know Shockwave wouldn't have said anything, because his logic would dictate that 'he had nothing to win nor lose, whether he talked or not'" shot back the Praxian, getting up too and air quoting while imitating the scientist's voice. "I needed more data."

"And you came out with counterintelligence" interrupted the Polihexian.

"Did I?"

At this retort, the lieutenant didn't answer, not quite sure whether he would like to hear whatever came after; so, he simply stood there, waiting for his friend to explain himself.

Prowl sighed again, knowing this wouldn't be easy. His Amica Endura trusted his men, and wouldn't like what he had to say, but… He had to warn him anyway. It was the right thing to do.

"I think Drift knows where the hunters are." He finally admitted.

Jazz stared into his Amica Endura's optics for a moment before stating that if that was the case, and Drift did, indeed, know the hunters' location, then, he would've told them already. However, inwards, he was having his doubts too… The knight hadn't been acting like himself as of lately, and he couldn't forget the younger mech's attitude change the day before ―those icy-cold optics that were light years away from the person he knows and works with… So he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he has been suspecting this all along, but the Polihexian couldn't bring himself to confess it out loud; he didn't have enough evidence yet, and he didn't have all the facts.

Prowl, nonetheless, scoffed as his friend defended his subordinate; especially since he could feel the conflict, which was poorly covered behind his demeanor. It told the captain that what he has being suspecting all along was true: Jazz _saw_ these very same signs, yet was _ignoring_ them. It angered the law enforcer.

"Why aren't you, at least, _pretending_ to see things my way, as you usually do during our arguments?" asked the Praxian, irritated.

"Maybe 'cause Ah don't see a reason to…" answered the shorter mech, nonchalantly, shrugging to stress.

"Or, maybe, because you already knew all this" retorted the black and white bot, crossing his arms and frowning.

"Huh?"

The tactician allowed himself to sigh, pressing his temples and lowering his door-wings in slight tiredness. Why it always had to be like this with his best friend? Why couldn't they _both_ behave as fully-grown Cybertronians and have a civilized conversation, for once?

"Jazz, could you make us both a favor and stop trying to patronize me, as if I were some ignorant cadet. I know you. I know your ways…" pleaded the Middle Triplet, receiving simply a confused look from his companion. "I know, as well as you do, that you like to research the background of each and every partner you ever had." He stated, frowning.

"Oh, c'mon, Prowler! Yah know dat's but a filthy lie!" Jazz rebuked, frowning and gesturing wildly, acting insulted. "Just 'cause Imma Special Ops-…!"

"You investigated **_me_** …" Prowl interrupted, narrowing his optics, utterly annoyed by now.

The Polihexian shoulders sagged.

"Man, yah know how tah hold a grudge, don't yah?" commented the shorter mech, who finally sighed, admitting defeat. "Look, Ah admit or deny nothing 'bout it, but, so far, Ah can't see a reason as tah not trust Drift." Jazz said, crossing his arms too, and standing his ground. "Everything comes back clean."

"And his past?"

"Haven't had much success there; the only intel there is simply explains he was a 'Con who switched sides, but doesn't say why." The Special Ops admitted. "Look if Ah were sniffin' anything funny, Ah would've told yah by now."

The answer seemed to convince the law enforcer, because he nodded and turned to leave; however, he warned his friend to keep an optic on the knight, and to call him, should anything happen. It reassured him when the Polihexian gave him his word, allowing him to leave a little bit more at ease with this whole situation.

Once alone, though, the white mech let out a short vent and took seat at the bench, before checking his data-pad for a split second; then, as he put it away, inspected the people around him. Back in his youth, when he was yet in training, Jazz liked to come to places like this with some of his classmates and make silly bets where they had to analyze the behavior of the bots around them. It was always the same stuff. Small details giving other people away, enabling them to say that they were sires, scholars and stuff like that. The now expert Special Ops couldn't help but smirk at the remembrance that he _always_ won those games…

Indeed, he knew how to read people ―and the extra credits or fuel would've never being refused by any sane trainee. It explained why, out of all possible bots in the universe, he took Prowl as his Amica Endura; it was because he found it funny, and somewhat relieving, to finally have someone capable of keeping up with him while noticing small, subtle details too; things that others tended to dismiss easily. It was… Refreshing. And it was for this very reason that Jazz wasn't at all surprised to know that Prowl had started to pick up Drift's strange behavior too ―the fact that it took him longer was entirely due to the fact that the Praxian didn't spend as much time with the former hunter as he did. _"The only thing I can't grasp is **what** he is hiding…"_ thought the Polihexian, kind of frustrated…

He had observed the former hunter since his first day in the job. Since _before_ that, actually. Yet the mech's past was a complete mystery to him; other than the fact that he used to be a Decepticon men hunter, and that he was native of Rodion City, there were no records of him… And it was beyond evident that Drift didn't want to talk about his past. After all, the warrior has given them nothing yet…

"Yet" reminded himself Jazz, as he got up, preparing to go back to the HQ.

Sooner or later, he _always_ figured everyone out. He simply needed more information…

* * *

 **Yeah, I know... Kind of a filling chapter here. Sorry.**

 **Hope you liked it though.**

 **See ya!**


	8. The Fugitive Knight

**Still alive, and still writing... Somewhat. Anyhow, I hope you're all doing fine!**

 **Warnings: English isn't my mother language, so there might be some grammar issues ahead. Plus, Drift's memories are taken from the comics, meaning that those scenes are a bit more 'intense' than what I usually write...**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own** ** _Transformers_** **franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro. Also; the idea of the holographic simulation came from the _Catching Fire_ movie.**

* * *

 **-SEVEN-**

 **THE FUGITIVE KNIGHT**

Crosshairs wasn't the most empathic bot around, and even _he_ was aware of that. He still could remember some old coworker calling him "His Royal Prickness", and him being the first one in laughing at the joke, fully conscious of his attitude issues. Yet, the moment in which Drift stepped into the training room, making a beeline for the combat simulator, he was a hundred percent sure that something was bothering the swordsman… Especially when the simulation started and the white and orange mech launched himself into the fight with a ferocity worthy of Megatron himself ―when in a bad day.

Now, next to his lack of empathy (and related to it), it was to be expected that the green soldier never considered himself counselor material. After all, no slag-brained bot would ever come at him for wisdom; sometimes, not even himself… But he had the impression that, being the only one around, he _had_ to do _something_ about his friend's uncharacteristic rage. So, doing his best to bring his surprised widened optics back to their normal size, the paratrooper approached the simulator and opened the room's microphone.

"Hey, what got under your armor?" He asked, trying to sound as casual and uninterested as possible.

« _Not now, 'Hairs!_ » answered the knight, as he sidestepped an incoming attack and counterattacked a holographic dummy that was running towards him.

The green Autobot couldn't help but grimace as the next hologram had an unfortunate encounter with one of the warrior's swords.

"Uh… You sure there's _nothing_ you want to talk about?" He tried again.

« _I said **not now**! _» Drift shouted, while picking up another preprogrammed enemy, only to toss it against the glass wall that separated the simulator from the rest of the training room… Right were Crosshairs was standing…

The paratrooper took a step back and brought up his arms as a defensive reflex, until he saw the incoming object disintegrate into a billion of orange-colored particles of light the moment it connected to the hard surface. Then, blinking, he proceeded to observe his raging partner…

If _he_ noticed the conflict within the knight, Jazz would see it in shiny, neon-bright letters written all over the younger mech's head. But the real issue was Flux… That guy never liked Drift, and if the swordsman didn't get a grip over himself, there was no question that their lovely superior was going to kick him out without feeling any regrets for it. Everyone knew that the old mech was seeking for any little excuse he could find to get rid of the guy. And if the knight wasn't careful, then this could be it…

He hated to admit it, but he didn't want that to happen… Because he cared for Drift… The white and orange mech was one of the few people in the universe whom Crosshairs considered a friend, and the idea of losing such thing wasn't pleasant. _"Oh, frag…"_ groaned the paratrooper as he changed the settings of the program, and entered the glass room.

The knight, meanwhile, was in the middle of a strike when his opponents flicked out of existence, leaving him slightly confused until he noticed the paratrooper who was readying his blasters.

"What are you doing?" asked the younger Autobot, still unable to understand the situation.

"Well, if yer not going to talk to me, or anyone, then I'll do the only thing I can…" He said, finishing with his guns, and putting on his googles. "I'm gonna help you release some steam, so prepare yourself, 'cause I set this thing for a team-sim… And I kind of suck when it comes to this Primus-damn machine…"

Drift was about to say something against the idea, but the lights turned on and a horde of new holographic enemies materialized in front of both of them. The countdown started too, so there was no time to talk his friend out of this.

Growling, the former hunter gripped his swords even tighter and got in position; Crosshairs followed, blasters ready.

A loud beeping indicated the start of the combat, and the knight launched forward, to the nearest opponent he could find. On the way, he took down a couple fakes with his blades; meanwhile, the paratrooper opened fire, and, soon, a dozen holograms went down. However, as he prepared to shoot another, his partner pounced on him, pushing him off the way from a simulated 'Con who was creeping up to him from behind.

Almost as fast as he arrived to save him, Drift was off his partner, taking down the dummy with his swords.

"Never forget to check your surroundings!" yelled the knight angrily, as he blocked an incoming punch, throwing his rival off-balance and creating an opening for his attack. "If this were a real fight, you would be terminated by now!" He added, while finishing one avatar with his right sword, at the same time he blocked yet another attack with the other.

"Hey! Show some respect! Yer not the only one who survived the fragging war! I know what I'm doing!"

"Then prove it!"

Offended by the critic, the paratrooper jumped back to his feet and resumed the battle. An holographic 'Con was already running at him, but it was gone at the next minute; Crosshairs opening his way through the enemies, trying to catch up with his partner who was, once again, surrounded. However, he had to jump out of the way as the avatar of a sharpshooter almost intercepted him; so, rolling to the side, he tagged his opponent, only to have to get up and wrestle another dummy. After taking it down too, he checked on the knight again: the guy was at the other end of the room, still standing, cutting through any hologram that tried to approach him.

Crosshairs had to stop and stare, never imagining that this guy could be so… Ruthless? Yes. That was the right word to describe what he was witnessing, although he had serious trouble believing it… Even when he has seen Drift fight before, and knew just how good he was ―the guy got them both out of lots of tight spots in the past, practically singlehandedly―; yet, nobody could've ever guessed that he could be like this, especially when considering that, even when cornered, there was always this aura of peace and Zen-slag around him. Now? It looked like the knight was seeing red. For a moment, in fact, the paratrooper even thought that the younger mech's optics had a red shade on them… _"Almost like a-…"_ Crosshairs refused to finish that thought and forcefully looked away.

That was when the green bot also noticed that there was a dummy about to take down the knight, who, any other day, would've avoided easily; but not today. This time around, Drift was completely oblivious to the incoming threat, meaning that it was up to Crosshairs to save his aft. So, frowning, the paratrooper intercepted the avatar… Unfortunately, his bold move made him miss another enemy who quickly shot him from behind, ending the simulation.

The holographic bots disappeared and the lights were back on, leaving the two Autobot warriors alone in the glass room, both of them venting erratically in exhaustion as their processors caught up with reality, telling them that they lost. Finally, when realization hit him, Crosshairs cursed and allowed himself to collapse on the floor, where he finally took his googles off his optics. Drift simply put his swords back in his sheaths and turned to leave without a word…

"Wow, really feeling the love down here…" The paratrooper mocked his partner, following him with his optics, still sprawled on the floor. "Seriously? Not even a 'thank you'?" He added, upon receiving no answer nor reaction.

The knight's shoulders tensed as he stopped on his tracks and glared at his friend from above his shoulder.

"For what?" He snarled. "We lost because you keep forgetting to check your surroundings!" lectured the white and orange mech, finally turning around and gesturing to the empty room.

"Hey! Hold on, pal! I lost 'cause I was saving your sorry skid-plate!" retorted the green mech, pushing himself up. "If not, we would've lost much sooner; there was a fragging hologram creeping up on you from behind!"

Drift swayed, ever so slightly.

"What?" The swordsman asked, blinking in a startled way.

"Turns out that your knight-y skills aren't so awesome" huffed the paratrooper, rising to his feet with a grunt. "After all, apparently even you can make rookies mistakes, huh?" He kept saying, shoving the dust off his arms.

Yet, he soon regretted his words, since Drift's optics soon dimmed and lowered in shame … It shut the paratrooper's mouth as he attempted to process this sight. It felt wrong to see him like this; to have seen _all this_ … Not to mention that his mind was now fighting back a glitch, since his brain was having a very hard time accepting the fact that his partner was both: the Mr. Nice Guy who's always smiling and wishing everyone a good day, the one whose main pastime is to meditate on the roof; and the hardcore warrior, who could shred you into pieces without much of an effort if he has to. The mere thought made the paratrooper wonder how it was possible…

And, on top of all that, there was the sentimental side of the knight; which was still showing in bright, shiny colors. Even though he still had no clue as of what caused all this mess, Crosshairs couldn't help but feel like he had to do something to fix it, somehow. So, sighing and putting his own ego aside, the green bot walked closer to his partner and patted him on the shoulder.

"Sorry, that was my temper talking…" He said, trying to cheer up the knight, who still refused to lock eyes with him. "Look, I don't know what the frag is troubling you, but if it makes you commit rookies' mistakes such as these ones, then… Maybe, you should talk about it?"

At this point, Drift did look at him, only to arch an optic-ridge and blink blankly after flinching a bit in hesitation, clearly thinking this was a ruse of sorts.

Crosshairs chocked a laugh at his friend's reaction.

"I know, I can't believe I said that either." The green bot admitted, with an uncomfortable smirk, both hands on his waist. Advising people was _never_ his forte. "I guess that, what I'm trying to say is: we're a team, so if you've a trouble and need help, you can count on Jazz and me…"

The younger mech was about to thank the feeling, but much to his dismay, the kind words only brought back the very past he was trying to forget…

… … …

 _He fell on his knees, clumsily trying to cover the gash on his side with one hand, as the other barely held onto the sword he had left ―its pair lost long ago by now. His Energon levels were lowering fast thanks to the wound, not to mention that half of his energy reserves were burnt during the fight already, so he was feeling weak and dizzy. Yet, he didn't much care. Cristal City would be safe… Everyone would be fine. Lockdown was on the planet because of him, and only him. Once the hunter was finished with him, Axe and the others would win the fight (those lizards weren't so hard to defeat), so, when it ended, the others would go back to the citadel and would've a long and prosperous life… And he was fine with it. So, as the hunter's shadow fell upon him, he simply closed his optics and waited for the blow…_

 _Until a scream of sheer pain made the former Decepticon snap out of it and look up. He knew that voice… It was Wing, his friend, who, a few feet away, was dealing with the leader of the lizards ―Braids, or so he said he was called. The young knight, hurt and tired, had tripped with a boulder, falling on his back._

 _Much to his horror, Braids was soon over the youngling… Spear in hand…_

 _"No!"_

… … …

"No!" Drift cried, taking a few steps away from Crosshairs, who was taken aback by the sudden reaction.

The knight shook his head, shooing away the memory, before staring onto his companion's optics as scenes from his past mixed with the ones from his present. It was like the history was repeating itself in front of his eyes…

… … …

 _The moment in which Wing's biolights blinked into oblivion, Drift felt himself pouncing forward, taking Braids with him; engaging in a close range combat with the reptilian scavenger. Unfortunately for him, the fight was harder than it should, even when he was trained well by the young knight; his side was leaking, and, before he knew it, he had to apply pressure on the wound, since it doubled him in pain when he tried to jump out of reach from his opponent. It gave Braids the opening he was looking for, sweeping the former 'Con off his feet. His opponent pinned him to the ground with one foot._

… … …

"Woah! What's gotten into you?!" Crosshairs asked, raising his hands, alarmed by his partner's reaction.

He couldn't allow it… He couldn't let the story repeat itself again. He already lost Gasket and Wing because he couldn't protect them; he couldn't let the same happen to Jazz and Crosshairs.

"Drift?" The paratrooper tried again, upon receiving no answer, placing a hand on his companion's shoulder.

"I… I'm sorry for my behavior" apologized the knight, suddenly snapping out of it. "Thank you for wanting to help." He added with a sad smile, before he walked out of the room followed by the green bot's worried optics.

As he exited the building, the white and orange mech nearly bumped into Jazz, who was returning from his meeting with Prowl. The shorter bot gasped a bit when the door opened in front of him and a taller figure threatened with blindsiding him; fortunately, this alerted the other warrior of his presence and made Drift stop on his tracks, sidestepping his superior and avoiding collision. The knight apologized for this, before resuming his way.

"Where're yah goin'? Day's barely started!" The Polyhexian called behind his back.

"I'm not feeling well. Probably a bug" was the only pretext Drift could come up with as he transformed and drove away, promising to be back next cycle.

Jazz stared at the retreating figure, arching an optic-ridge behind his visor, his processor dealing with a conflict. Part of him wanted to trust the guy, but there was another telling him to tail the knight and make sure he was saying the truth. However, he wasn't sure whether it was him or Prowl's doubts talking; so he preferred to stay put and wait. Time would tell.

He just hoped to be making the right call…

… … …

 _Drift landed on his face, growling in both, physical and emotional, pain._

 _It seemed that there was no way out of this one… In the distance, he could see Lockdown glaring at him, but not bothering to get closer and finish the job himself. He was already considering him terminated, no doubt…_ "Focus on your next target, not your last" _remembered the future knight from his lessons, before he turned to glare at Braids, who flinched at the sight of the Cybertronian's renewed strengths. Thanks to it, Drift had the time he needed to shove the scavenger off him, and rise to his feet, getting in position… Only to notice that his last sword was gone too and he didn't have blasters now. To make things worse, the organic was already preparing to sprint his way; so he had to think. **Fast**._

 _Scanning the area, his optics fell upon Wing's Ancient Sword, which fell off his friend's back moments ago._

 _The warning he received about those things rang again in his mind, but, what other options did he had? So, as Braids jumped forward, he rolled toward the young knight's husk._

 _The reptilian, then, prepared to try again…_

 _The mech felt his digits closing around the blade's handle with ease, right before the blue jewel started to shine and he felt his spark's energy being siphoned out of his chest, almost making him yelp. But he found the strength to wield the sword, and, in a flash, a metallic reflection flew through the air…_

 _Moments later, Braids fell limply on the ground, lifting a cloud of dust._

 _Drift held onto the Ancient Sword, straightening up before, panting, turn to glare at Lockdown. There was challenge in his optics, daring him to attack him again; but the green and black bot didn't. He simply looked at him, then at Braids, and, then, he turned to leave without another word or action._

 _Not long after the hunter's retreat, all the lizards ran away, giving the victory to the knights. But before the victorious cheer, Drift fell into power down… His systems nearly depleted of Energon._

* * *

The knight was back at his apartment, sitting on his berth, optics glued to the small cache on his servos while shaking his knees in nervous indecision.

If he did this, he would have to do it on his own, because he couldn't risk another friend. Also, in order to succeed, he couldn't go as Drift either… He would only survive if he behaved as a man hunter, but he hasn't been that guy in so long… Was his Decepticon self still part of him? _"Maybe I should just put this back in the box…"_ He thought with a sigh, but to no avail. Subconsciously, his fingers were already opening the file in his hands, reason why a holographic stellar-chart appeared in front of his optics.

His optic-ridges furrowed upon the discovery that, according to this, Prowl's guess was almost right; and, if he knew anything about that guy, the moment in which he figured what planetoid was the right one, he would call out an expedition… Which would end in a fight against the hunters, on their own turf…

Shutting his eyes, the warrior's hand clenched around the cache… Destroying it.

* * *

Eventually everything fell back into routine, without many changes. Except for a big one… _"Drift didn't show… Again. This is **not** good…" _thought Jazz as he observed the headquarters' cafeteria, where Crosshairs was, once again, slouching on his own and glaring at some news he was reading on his personal data-pad. The paratrooper's mood has been programmed in 'awful' for a good couple days now; while the knight, who was supposed to be his partner, decided to pull off a little disappearance act. None of which was good for the former lieutenant who knew his team under Flux's constant watch; only that, up until now, he never actually had a reason to worry about it, because his guys were trustworthy and always followed the rules. Now? Now _he_ was starting to doubt… The swordsman was known for his punctuality, and for never missing training; so, it was hard to ignore the fact that he has been nowhere to be found for the past deca-cycle, making the former lieutenant reconsider the moment in which he let the mech go, all those days ago…

Not to mention that, either he put their act together, or the director would kick their collective asses out of the Special Ops. After all, Drift was his subordinate, his responsibility; and he just let him go off the grid… Growling, the Polyhexian felt like kicking himself for that. Allowing a former men hunter to go rogue… Even a bot with half a processor would know better, and he used to be third and second in command of an entire army; he shouldn't be committing such rookies' mistakes! He had to find the knight and bring him back to the headquarters ―dragging him by the circuits, if necessary. Of course that, saying it was easier than actually do it; it was needless to say that the guy hasn't been picking up calls as of lately, not to mention that his homing beacon was deactivated, so tracking his current position was out of question. He could be literally anywhere by now. _"Good thing I have experience with situations like this"_ reminded himself the Polihexian, as he left the building without telling anybody ―the less who knew, the better. Anyway, nobody within the headquarters could actually help him; not in this deed…

Good thing he had an Amica Endura who can…

So, as soon as he was outside, Jazz switched to alt-mode and sped towards Iacon's Police Department.

* * *

She was leaning against a column, arms crossed and optics closed, waiting patiently at Kaon's old gladiatorial pits. Well… What remained of it…

The coordinates she received from their stranded partner said to meet there, but it has been two joors and there was no trace of the other hunter. Does he thinks she has the whole day, or what? Not to mention all the stuff he asked her to bring… If he ever showed up, she was going to grind him for this. Fortunately, as the femme started to drum her claws against her arm's plating, the soft sound of steps reached her audios.

"About damn time, Tarantulas…" She greeted, without turning to look at the mech. "I do not enjoy to be kept waiting." She added, finally looking over her shoulder, only to realize there was no one there.

Her confusion was replaced by a glare when a hiss made her look upwards. Right above her, a purple and black mech with golden highlights was standing on the tall wall, using his eight extra limbs ―spider-legs. He simply chuckled at the other hunter's reaction before jumping off, making a flip, and nailing a clean landing on the ground. The extra legs folding themselves inside a compartment on his back. His battle-mask, then, retracted, revealing a dark grey protoform; and a pair of fangs which peaked from beneath the upper lip.

"And I do not enjoy to have to resource to the waste pipes in order to go unnoticed in this planet, yet here we are…" He retorted with a shrug, showing that he didn't give a frag about whatever she had to say. "Did you bring the materials, yes or not?"

The femme rolled her optics, sighing over dramatically, before taking out a remote and pressing a button. Immediately after, a stealth ship appeared at the arena's center as its cloaking program deactivated.

"It's all in my vault." She admitted, looking at her vessel.

"Excellent."

"Where's Deadlock?"

Tarantulas turned his visor towards her, cocking his head.

"Lockdown sent _you_?" asked the mech, incredulous.

"I volunteered" clarified the femme, narrowing her optics, not appreciating the doubtful tone.

"The probabilities of you defeating that guy are of slightly below one percent. You're unqualified for this mission" stated the beast-former, turning to go for the materials he requested.

"Oh, really? And why is that?" The female hunter challenged, fisting her hands and tensing her wings in anger.

"I rely on mere facts: Lockdown was unable to take him down, and he is stronger than you; thus, you can't deal with Deadlock on your own." He explained with a nonchalant shrug to stress his lack of interest in all this. It wasn't his mission anyway, so his warnings were more a professional curtesy…

As a result, a silver grey and magenta figure jumped in front of him, as a hand closed around his neck-wires; however, as soon as he felt the pressure, his extra limbs shot out of their pack, pushing the attacker away before he used them to lift his bipedal form off the ground, gaining some tactical advantage. A few feet in front of him, the femme was also in position, one of her blasters out already.

"Step aside, Slipstream" warned the beast-former.

The femme stood her ground.

"Ok, this standoff is but a waste of time…" The mech said, dropping his stance, relaxing. "Look, I've things to do, and you've a traitor to catch, so…" He placed both hands on the sides of his waist. "How about we recheck our little spar? That way Lockdown may allow our heads to remain attached to our shoulders." He proposed, shrugging as he waved one of his servos around.

"Sounds reasonable" agreed the femme, putting away her blaster. "Coordinates to find the little glitch, please." She demanded, showing her left hand, palm up.

Tarantulas tossed a small cache toward the other hunter, who caught it in midair. Then, as Slipstream made way for him, the beast-former walked inside the ship and went straight for the boxes that were neatly stacked inside the small vault in the lower deck. After he took everything he needed, the mech went out again, allowing the femme to cloak the ship again.

Time for both of them to resume their missions.

* * *

"Remind me again: why are we doing this?" asked a white and black Praxian, narrowing his optics in annoyance, as he typed some codes into his own workstation. The shield of the law enforcers on his door-wings.

"'Cause yer a very nice friend, and Ah needed a favor?" answered a white Polyhexian with a smirk, optics hidden underneath his teal colored visor.

The police officer simply let out a tired vent and shook his head, reminding himself that this wasn't the first time his best friend showed out of the blue to ask weird errands for no apparent reason. Much later he would always learn it was for some mission of his, and that the shorter mech didn't want to involve him; mostly because it were jobs he wasn't supposed to know about to begin with… Like when Optimus wanted the Special Ops to steal the locations of several of Megatron's outposts; back then, Jazz put him to trace efficient, yet difficult, ways in and out from different Decepticon-controlled territories without explaining him why such information was needed… It wasn't until later, when the Special Ops asked him to become his backup, in case something went south, that he ever knew the plan.

Actually, and thinking about it, the white bot _never_ shared his plans _before_ it became absolutely necessary.

This time, however, the request was extremely weird: Jazz waltzed into his office, asking if he could give him access to the city's traffic cameras. It took Prowl some minutes to process the petition and nod. Then, next thing he knew was that he was searching for that morning's footage, while his visitor stood right beside him with his optics glued to the screen. Alas, the Praxian had no clue as of what his friend was looking for, nor why the urgency. He simply kept replaying whichever video the other mech in the room wanted, and hoped for his processor to find some sort of pattern to help him understand…

"Stop!" Jazz suddenly yelled, as his friend was about to move onto another camera's footage. "Can yah zoom that image, right there?" He asked, pointing at one of the recordings.

The law enforcer simply nodded and did as told… And that was when the pieces started to fall together: the bot his Amica Endura was looking was Drift. The video in question was one of the young knight walking down the street. Frowning in confusion, the black and white mech took a glimpse of the time the footage was recorded, discovering that the Autobot in it should've been at the Special Ops' headquarters by then. And that's when everything made sense.

"Drift went missing?" He asked, although he didn't need to, for he knew the answer.

"He stopped showing a couple cycles ago…" Jazz admitted, accent dropped. "The first time he left, he said something about a bug in his systems, so I let it pass; but, as days kept fleeting, I knew something was wrong. This only confirms it."

Without another thought, he asked the law enforcer to trace the bot's steps; unfortunately, it was harder than thought: the knight proved why he used to be a hunter by coming in and out of frame over and over again. It was very difficult to come up with a trajectory… If you're not Prowl, that is… After all, it might have taken him a few extra kliks, but the white and black tactician finally realized that the mech was headed toward the Sea of Rust.

Behind his visor, Jazz arched an optic-ridge. _"What the scrap does Drift has to do there?"_ He wondered, before thanking his friend for the help by patting the Praxian's shoulder. Then, the lieutenant ran out of the room and calling Crosshairs.

* * *

 **This is all for now. Let me know what you think.**

 **See ya!**


	9. Catch Me if You Can

**Hello, everyone. How're you doing? I hope you're all ok, given the current times...**

 **Skyshadow54** **: thank you for your comments. You're right, Prowl and Jazz knows each other so well, that the Praxian simply rolls with it whenever his friend comes up with his strange and crazy ideas and requests; he has grown too tired to ask XD And, yes, Drift's currently spiraling down into some difficult memories of his; and the decisions made upon them will have consequences. You'll see ;)**

 **Warnings: English isn't my mother language, so there might be some grammar mistakes ahead.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own** ** _Transformers_** **fanchise, nor its characters. It is a trademark of Hasbro.**

* * *

 **-EIGHT-**

 **CATCH ME IF YOU CAN**

A white and orange vehicle was at the city's borderline, looking over the Sea of Rust. This was an awfully bad idea. He knew.

It wasn't too late yet; he could just turn around, and apologize to his friends for haven't gone to work, and explain his recent behavior. All he had to do was turn around, and go back to Iacon's downtown; as simple as that…

But he didn't.

Taking a deep breath, the muscle car rolled toward the plain, which, fortunately, wasn't being hit by a rust storm that cycle. He had found out where he needed to go, and he was aware that if he was going to do it, he had to do it fast; so, making his mind, the Cybertronian raced to the coordinates he managed to get from a low live thug he tracked down the streets a couple nights ago, right before tossing the guy's sorry aft into the brig.

His com-link pinged again. He ignored it for the thousandth time that deca-cycle. He hated to do this to his friends, but there was no other option… They made clear that, no matter what he said, they would go after those guys… And he couldn't allow it. He wasn't capable of protecting Gasket nor Wing, but he would keep these two safe; same with the Middle Triplet, Prowl. The only inconvenient was that he lacked the means to actually get out of Cybertron without their knowing. _"Good thing that guy was one of the Decepticons who escaped recapture three stellar-cycles ago…"_ He thought, as the city's outline became smaller in his mirrors.

It took a few hours of driving, but he finally arrived to a makeshift fort in the middle of the Sea of Rust. It was literally built with scrap metal, and it stood out in the emptiness of the scenery. On the other hand, it also allowed the bots within to know whenever someone was approaching; so, no surprises when two Decepticons peeked out, ready to fight if he wasn't a friendly visit.

The orange and white vehicle, seeing this, quickly transformed, coming to full stop, and rose his hands in surrender.

"I don't want to fight." He informed, slowly walking up to the guards. "I'm here for businesses only." He added.

The two 'Cons, however, noticing the Autobot brand on his chest, soon cocked their blasters and prepared to shoot. _"Ok. Plan B."_ Frowning, he leaped forward, making the two guards open fire.

Dodging the attacks, the mech hurried to incapacitate his opponents. Grabbing the blaster of one of them, he redirected the gun, so they ended taking down one another; then, once his two opponents were unconscious, he walked inside the fort… Only to be faced by another forty-or-so guards…

"Oh, scrap…" He cursed with a sigh.

"Hands in the air, 'Bot!" One of the mechs shouted at him.

The white and orange warrior did as told, scanning his surroundings. The guy he was looking for wasn't among these thugs, who quickly took his swords away, before start leading him to the depths of the shantytown he managed to enter. Only after the guards pushed him through the inside door did the warrior understand how hard it would be for him to get out if he didn't play his cards carefully.

"Wait here." One of the guards ordered him, before disappearing within a small construction.

He guessed that he was finally led to the bot he was searching. And, indeed, he was right; for, as soon as the guard reappeared, a black mech with jet wings on his back appeared behind the thug. Black Shadow, the king of Cybertron's black market during the war. Exactly the person he wanted to see…

The 'Con arched an eyebrow, before scan his visitor from head to toe. There was something familiar about him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it… Nonetheless, the moment he noticed the Autobot badge proudly carved on the stranger's chest-plates, he was nano-kliks away from gesturing his guards to take care of this. But he was curious as of why would a 'Bot take such risk to find him. After all, he was all alone, at the Sea of Rust; help was joors away, and the cloaking system he managed to snatch when he broke out of jail three stellar-cycles ago made sure nobody could bridge in or out without him knowing. So he decided to see what this guy wanted…

"Are you Black Shadow?" The stranger asked.

"Depends on who's asking… _Autobot_." He snarled, crossing his arms, and narrowing his optics.

"My designation, and affiliation doesn't matter; I'm here because I require access to a spaceship." He stated, standing strong.

Black Shadow pursed his lips, and frowned at the demand.

"And why would you need _my services_ for that? Considering your looks, all you need to do is ask your superiors to get one." The 'Con retorted, not really interested in this exchange. He didn't see where his profit was…

"I don't want my superiors to know I'm gone." The warrior announced, while reaching for something behind his back.

This got every single bot around him on guard. He quickly rose his other hand, before showing a package with shanix that he was carrying; then, he tossed it towards the black mech, who caught it in midair. Now _this_ got him Black Shadow's attention…

Smirking, the 'Con admitted to know a guy who may provide the vessel, however, he also warned his client that what he was asking for wasn't a cheap asset. This hinted the warrior to toss another package to the black armored mech, who, once again, caught it midair and contemplated it, considering his answer; yet, he ended smiling, and saying it only covered half the ship's price.

"I'll give you the rest _after_ I've received the ship, not before." The Autobot stated, crossing his arms and frowning.

"Fine for me." Black Shadow agreed, shrugging a shoulder, still smirking. "My partner, Bacchus, will deliver the asset to this coordinates tomorrow at sundown." He informed, giving the white and orange guy a data-pad with all the needed data. "Don't be late, or he'll be gone with the ship, and all this would've been for nothing." The 'Con warned, turning to leave. "My men will show you out." He said, waving a hand over his shoulder.

Immediately after, the same thugs from before were surrounding the outsider, whose frown intensified.

"Not without my swords." The Autobot called.

Black Shadow grinned. _"He remembered…"_ He cursed, mentally, while gesturing his guards to return the items.

Once outside, the white and orange mech transformed and drove away. It was already past noon, and he had lots of things to do if he wanted to be ready for this…

… … …

A white vehicle was speeding down the road, followed closely by a green and black car. Unfortunately, their race was for nothing, considering the call that the one taking point received: Prowl, whom obviously kept watching the feed ever since he left, notified him that Drift was seen back in the city through one of the traffic cameras. Jazz stomped his brakes, leaving a black skid mark behind his tires, as he managed to come to full stop and transform ―Crosshairs was forced to mimic his behavior in order to prevent crashing onto his superior, though he transformed far less gracefully, ending on his butt. The Polihexian, meanwhile, was busy with his com-link, talking to his Amica Endura, who assured to have seen the knight heading back into the city. He was going downtown. The Special Ops thanked the Intel and hung up, before turning to look at his partner, sharing the change of plans as he helped the green mech up.

Deep inside, he was fearing that all this chase would be for nothing, considering that Drift knew all the tricks when it comes to move unnoticed; but he had to try. Whatever was happening to that mech, he suspected that he couldn't face it on his own…

As soon as they could transform, both warriors were heading for downtown. Jazz called back Prowl, asking to keep him posted if the white and orange bot appeared in his screens again. It was a long shot, but it was worth trying.

… … …

Iacon wasn't Rodion, and he was learning it fast. Even with all his training, with all his time as man hunter, Drift was having trouble staying out of sight; he probably got caught on camera a few times already, meaning that his friends had a somewhat vague idea of his position. They would try to stop him, no doubt; he must, already, be suspecting something. They would want answers, explanations for his recent behavior. Then again, how could he give them any without revealing his past? Without bringing back the memories he struggled for so long to leave behind?

Sighing, he simply shook the thought out of his head, and kept moving.

Somehow he managed to reach his apartment in order to grab his stuff and prepare for the trip; he should start with the shanix missing for the ship's price. Black Shadow was explicit: either he paid the other half of it, or the vessel was gone. A little voice at the back of his head kept reminding him that it was all the money he had, while another answered that there was no way to know whether he would return anyway. _"Lockdown alone is dangerous, and I don't know who else-…"_ His thought was interrupted by the slight sound of something hitting the floor inside his place. His allegedly _empty_ place.

Frowning, he opened the front door with a hand, while gripping one of his twin swords with the other. Nothing, as far as he could see; but the sound from moments ago was very clear. There was an intruder. So, slowly, he entered the apartment and closed the front door behind his back; optics sweeping the room, their bright blue shining clear in the dim light ―all thanks to his already closed windows. He caught a slight movement at the dining room, and his swords flew out of their sheets, while he jumped behind the opaque cerulean glass screen that separated the receiver from the rest of the place, taking (some) cover. Either if it was a mere burglar or not, they chose the wrong house to break in.

The whirring sound of a blaster charging up was his warning to roll out of his hiding, and jump into the fight, tackling the intruder and sending both of them to the ground. The other bot, however, pushed him off, tossing him to the side. The small grunt that came out of its vocalizer, next to its thin frame, told Drift that his opponent was a femme; nonetheless, he couldn't be sure of anything in such a dark room ―the only thing he saw clear were the other bot's purple optics, which wasn't a good sign. So, throwing a kick ―that missed by mere inches― toward his attacker, the knight managed to position himself closer to the light switch and turn on the ceiling lights, revealing a silver grey and purple femme ―a jet considering her wings― staring at him with a devious smirk on the lips. _"Oh, no…"_ was the mech's first thought, his optics going wide and his mouth falling agape at the reveal. He would've much preferred the theory of the idiotic burglar, than this…

"Slipstream…" He breathed, remembering the hunter's name. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?!" The knight demanded, his eyebrows falling into a deep frown while his teeth showed a bit.

"Did you honestly think you could hide forever?" The femme retorted, smirking as always.

In a swift move, she tossed the first object her servos could reach toward the knight, creating a small diversion; it were just a few seconds, but it was enough to allow her to get close to the younger bot, kicking his left leg, sending him down in one knee. Fortunately for Drift, his reflexes allowed him to block the punch aimed for his head, and use the femme's momentum against her, making the huntress fall on her knees too. Then, as fast as he could, Drift grabbed her from behind, wrapping an arm around her neck, while holding her wrists with the other hand. And, for a moment, it seemed like he had won the fight; wouldn't it because the femme flared up her wings, slapping the knight's arm slightly away, and giving her a slight chance to escape. In no time, Slipstream was back on her feet, and aiming one of her rockets to Drift's face.

The mech, still on his knees, punched the fem-bot's arm away before she had the chance to shoot. Thanks to it, the missile hit the bedroom's door, creating a huge cloud of dust that filled the entire place, making the jet cough for a split second; meanwhile, the knight had rolled behind a table, turning it over to take cover. _"I need a better angle, an opening…"_ He thought, looking around; trying to think of anything that may help him. His optics soon falling into his bedroom, remembering the small box within the wall… Biting his lip, he peeked above the table, Slipstream was still coughing, but it wouldn't last. He had to make his mind. Fast.

Cursing under his breath, the knight made his move: he tossed a dagger to make noise somewhere else, making the huntress turn the other way around; all of which earned him enough time to make a sprint to the bedroom, climb over the berth and grab the box. However, as soon as he had his servos on it, the sound of a blaster erupted in the room, right before a sharp pain filled his sensors, making him grunt and roll out of the berth.

The femme, meanwhile, remained at the doorframe, aiming at the spot which was being occupied by the former Con, instants ago. _"It couldn't be_ that _easy… Could it?"_ Slipstream narrowed her optics in suspicion. She knew she hit him, but… Deadlock was known for surviving worse; so there was no guarantee of whether he really went down or not. So, blaster still out, the femme took another step into the room and started to surround the berth; only to become face to face with a very pissed off mech, who counterattacked her with an old blaster. The impact was enough to make her take a step back and trip over a piece of rubble.

Next thing the knight knew, he had an unconscious man hunter in her bedroom…

The jet, slid down the wall, knocked out; and Drift allowed himself to sigh in utter relief, as he put away his old blaster and rose to his feet, moaning as his lateral articulator sent another wave of pain. Taking a look, the bot found a burn mark, showing the place where Slipstream hit him. He groaned and rolled his optics, cursing himself for his recklessness, before holding onto the berth and finally push himself off the floor. It hurt… It really hurt, but he didn't have much time. The fem-bot could become awake any minute. With a grunt, the mech went to look for something to tie the huntress. He would decide what his next move would be afterwards.

…

Slipstream's head was killing her, as she regained consciousness, moaning. The slowly coming back online systems were in max alert the moment in which she attempted to get up, realizing her hands were cuffed behind her back, and her ankles were tied together. Her optics shot open immediately, as she started to squirm a little, in hopes to break free; however, the moment her hands touched the pipe around which the cuffs were passed, the femme stopped, growling. She hated to do this, but her only choice right now, was to call for backup… Only to realize she couldn't.

"Don't bother" a male voice told her, suddenly.

The jet's purple eyes tracked the sound, finding Drift sitting atop his berth, legs crossed. He was staring down at her, burnt mark already buffed away. His teal optics shone bright in the room's darkness ―peeking in the window's direction, Slipstream could tell it was night already. The mech, noticing he had her attention, rose one of his hands revealing a jammer.

She smirked.

"Habits die hard, I suppose…" Slipstream commented, as he put the device away again.

He chuckled, humorlessly; bitterly, even.

"You were expecting to be found, weren't you, Deadlock?" asked the femme, scanning him from head to toe.

"Honestly? I'm surprised it took you this long. Were you even looking for me? 'Cause I wasn't actually hiding…" He rebuked, arching an eyebrow.

"We thought you were rusting at some planetoid by now." She admitted, looking away, feigning disinterest.

The mech smirked like his old self, as he leaned backwards, using his hands to support his upper body.

"Does Lockdown really think that little of me?" He questioned, cocking his head.

Slipstream simply shrugged, not giving a damn. Of course not, she never did. Whether he faded away at some space rock, or not, wasn't her problem.

The jet tugged at her chains again.

"You know, I'm not used to find myself in this sort of situation…" commented the femme, gesturing over her shoulder with her eyes. "I'm usually the one with the upper hand." She stated, relaxing and staring up at the mech with half closed optics.

"Your charm doesn't work with me, Slipstream. I know you, remember?" reminded her the mech, sitting straight again. "So why don't you cut the scrap and get to your point? That way you would save us _both_ a lot of time." He added, getting on his feet.

She dropped her seductive act and simply glared at her captor, tensing up again. Her lips became one thin and straight line, indicating she wasn't going to cooperate in this interrogation; not that he expected her, though. He knew that his chances of getting any intel out of Slipstream were narrow, but he had to try anyway…

Nonetheless, as he took another glimpse at his chronometer, Drift decided that he didn't have much time to lose with his unrequired visitor. _"Plan B"_ thought the mech, secretly turning off the scrambler. He knew she was bound to pick up the signal was gone, and that she would call for help. He was aware that there was, at least, one more hunter in the planet; and it was about time to bring him into the light too. So, keeping up his act, he simply sighed and walked out of the room… Leaving the jammer on the berth. Away from the femme's reach.

Slipstream blinked in surprise, optics coming from the ditched device to her retreating captor, and vice versa, before her processor actually coped up with the shift in the situation.

"Wait… You're _abandoning_ me here?!" She yelled at the former hunter's back.

He stopped at the hole where the door used to be, and looked at her over his shoulder.

"You can't!"

"Oh?" He mused, turning to stare at her with a neutral face and an arched optic-ridge. "Then, those years when Lockdown left me on my own on a desert planet, hoping that I would finally burn away, must've been nothing but a dream." He retorted.

A soft and dark chuckle left his vocalizer, as the femme's glare intensified and her denta was clenched together. Smirking, he rolled his eyes and turned to leave again.

"Don't fret… I'll call the law enforcers as soon as I'm out of range. That would give you about… Five kliks to escape? Let's see if you're faster than them" told her the mech, as he walked out of her view. "I hope you enjoyed your visit!" He yelled, once he was at the front door, where he left his bag.

He closed the door behind him, making enough noise for his prisoner to hear, and stood there for a moment, activating a small communication device he had hidden, when tying Slipstream. _"Now, let's see if she bit the bait…"_ thought the knight, as he walked away.

… … …

Jazz was glaring daggers at his data-pad, while slouching at his couch, Energon cube at hand's reach. It has been a whole day, and the knight was nowhere to be found; even with Prowl's help, monitoring the city cameras, the white and orange bot managed to dodge them all day. Growling, he tossed the pad onto the small table in front of the sofa and took off his visor to rub his optics. Then, putting it back on, he grabbed the cube and took a long sip at it. _"Nobody has ever been this troublesome"_ thought the mech, remembering the old times, back when he was Third in Command. He was one of the few Special Ops officers who joined the Autobot cause; so it wasn't exactly a surprise when he was given the job of looking into the profiles, singling out the shady ones ―he had found more than one traitor, surrendering him to the proper authorities, a.k.a. Optimus. His knack at reading people helped on a daily basis too… He actually saved the others from a lot of headaches, by stopping the Terror Twins from pulling half of their pranks ―Sideswipe and Sunstreaker always shared this particular smirk when they were up to something, giving it all away; funny Prowl never noticed.

And, yet, when it came to Drift, he had no clue as what to expect. He thought he did, but now…

Sighing, he massaged his neck-wires, thrusting his head backwards in realization of how tense his frame was. _"Everyone said it was a mistake… That I didn't choose my partners wisely"_ remembered the Polyhexian, lowering his hands, and going back to stare at the data-pad he just discarded. His optic-ridges frowned. _"They don't know me, at all."_ Jazz told himself, getting up and grabbing the tablet in one swift move, immediately returning it to his subspace.

He had drove around the entire city looking for Drift that cycle; but, there was one place he hadn't have the chance to check yet, and it was the knight's apartment.

… … …

Prowl was working on his office, rereading some reports when an alarm went off. _"An intruder!"_ Jumping off his seat, blasters out, the captain stormed out the door, finding his men already sweeping the building. Good. At least the protocols he implemented were working; but they hadn't found the trespasser yet. So, frowning, he masked and started to walk down the aisles. Unfortunately, every room he checked was empty…

 _"I don't get it. Who would be so stupid as to break into a police station? There's nothing valuable here, except-…"_ His optics widened in realization, as his head whipped toward one particular room: the archives! The only thing worth-stealing they had there were the files! Without hesitation, the law enforcer ran all the way to the storage, finding the door locked from inside. He struggled a few minutes with it, before growl and, taking a step back, blow the lock with his blaster; then, he kicked the door off its hinges.

The room was pitch black. Perfect for the intruder to prepare an ambush on him… _"Too risky to go on my own…"_ He decided.

"Captain Prowl to all hands, meet me at the records, now." He called his subordinates, who soon appeared behind him.

Picking one to be his backup, the Praxian ordered everyone else to stay behind and cover the door. If anyone came out, and wasn't a law enforcer, they had orders to arrest said person immediately. Only then, he walked inside-…

And the lights turned on so suddenly, that he and his companion had to close their optics with a startled yelp; reason why, his only clue was a deaf noise above their heads. The vents! The guy was using the vents to escape! Immediately, he opened fire, but with no use. Growling, he ordered everyone to lock the ventilation system's exits and to find a way to flush the guy out. Also, he told some guys to wait on all probable escape routes; meanwhile, he would make sure nothing was missing.

Once his men left, Prowl took a look around, scanning the area. It was a mess, as if the robber was looking for something in particular. That's when he saw the red screen, indicating that the wrong password was tried far too many times. That activated the alarm… _"At least he couldn't access our mainframe."_ He sighed in relief, and went to set the terminal back to normal. Once the screen was showing nothing but Iacon's law enforcers' shield, the middle Triplet started to scan the area.

Funny… Nothing was missing. What was the point of breaking into the station and take nothing?

Before he could come up with an answer, someone knocked him out from behind…

When Prowl reopened his optics, the first thing he noticed was the white, bright, rectangular light pending right atop of him; after a minute, he realized the ceiling and the walls weren't the same color as the precinct. Then, finally, the Praxian became aware that he was no longer at the archives room; in fact, he was on a stretcher, and a constant beeping was the only sound around, beside his own moans. The Middle Triplet didn't need to ask: he was at a clinic. His men probably found him lying unconscious and hurried to assist him…

Groaning, the law enforcer pushed himself to a sitting position, and touched the back of his head; immediately, the mech closed his optics, gritting his teeth at the sharp pain. Indeed, he had a dent. Whoever jumped him had a good arm.

"Why is it that, every single time slag happens, you end up in a clinic?" The rough voice of his older brother broke the monotony of the machinery.

Prowl looked up, locking gazes with the mint green mech, who was frowning at him, arms crossed; behind the imposing frame of X-Brawn, the Praxian got a glimpse of his younger brother's figure, Side Burn, who was watching him with worried eyes. The enforcer recognized the similarities between the current moment, and the one lived barely three stellar-cycles ago ―back when Ultra Magnus took him to Darkmount, where he was wounded by Skywarp. He couldn't blame his siblings to be on edge at the scene.

"Tough luck, I guess…" groaned the Middle Triplet, sliding his legs off the berth, trying to ignore the sharp pain on the base of his neck.

"You ok, bro?" Side Burn wondered, walking up to him and placing a servo over his shoulder.

"Yes, I'm good" nodded the other, trying to dedicate a smile to the youngest triplet to calm him down.

"So… What happened this time?" X-Brawn asked, arching an optic-ridge while cocking his head to the side.

The white and black mech started remembering the last few hours, telling his brothers about the intrusion at the precinct; something that caught the other two's attention, not following who would be stupid enough as to break into the police department. Prowl admitted he thought the same thing, shrugging his shoulders; only to quickly lower his head hissing, the pain on the back of his skull returning. _"To make things worse, something tells me the bastard got away with whatever he-…"_ his train of thought derailed as he noticed the absence of a small device on his right forearm: his master key.

"Son of a-…!" The enforcer cursed, glaring at the missing part and making his brothers flinch at the sudden outburst.

"Prowl? What-…?" X-Brawn tried to ask, hurrying to the Middle Triplet's side.

Yet, he was promptly asked to stay silent for a minute as Prowl's com-link pinged with an incoming call. He truly hoped it was one of his subordinates saying they caught the intruder; unfortunately, it were more bad news…

« _Prowl_ » Jazz's voice came through. « _Ah know it's late, but…_ »

"If you're _not_ using that stupid nickname, then it means it's urgent. What happened?" interrupted the Praxian, frowning a bit.

« _Ah'm at Drift's place… Come o'er. Yah'll see…_ » Then, the Polihexian hung up.

… … …

A long discussion with the medics ―plus a wrestling with his brothers― after, Prowl was nearing the building where the knight's apartment was located; finding his Amica Endura already expecting him at the main entrance. Jazz was leaning against a wall, arms and ankles crossed, visor slightly dimmed and lips in a thin line. The white mech seemed to be lost in thoughts ―in a rather troublesome way he hadn't seen since the war. Not a good sign… Whatever happened, it couldn't be good.

Using his roof-lights to warn his friend of his arrival, the enforcer came to full stop and transformed; bending over a little bit, as he hissed and gripped his helm with a hand, gritting his teeth and closing his optics with fury.

"Yah ok?" asked the Polihexian, pushing himself off the wall, visor coming to its usual bright; voice-print showing his concern.

"Yes, just… A little incident with an intruder this afternoon." Prowl answered, doing his best to ignore the jabbing headache. "So, why am I here?" wondered out loud, straightening up.

"Follow meh" was Jazz's only answer, as he pointed to the building with a tilt of his head.

Both bots entered the complex, and went into the lifts in complete silence ―something that the Praxian's processor thanked, due to the pain―; that, plus the upside-down curve in the Special Ops' lips, told the Middle Triplet that the scrap he was about to step into was worse than he originally estimated. Question was what exactly he was getting into?

The moment in which the elevator stopped and opened, Jazz led them both to the apartment in question and opened the door for him to see. Prowl nodded and walked inside the place, immediately halting and noticing with a gasp why his friend wanted him there ASAP: clear signs of struggle; in fact, the place was a warzone. Furniture was turned over, there was blaster-fire marks all over the walls, and a giant hole leading to the main bedroom. _"What in the name of Cybertron happened here?"_ wondered the enforcer as he took a few more steps inside, his processor already stablishing patterns of how it all happened, recreating the fight. Apparently, Drift came home, only to find an intruder waiting for him already… And considering what they've been dealing with in those past few cycles, Prowl had a pretty clear idea of whom might that be. So, frowning, he kept going, finally reaching the bedroom, where he found something unexpected: an abandoned jammer, and a pair of stasis-cuffs, which were passed around a pipe on a broken wall. Quirking an eyebrow, he couched next to this last thing.

"Already saw those" announced Jazz, entering the room and stepping behind his friend. "What Ah can't decide is whether those were used on Drift or his _visitor_ …" He stated, looking away.

The Praxian studied the wall for a minute, passing his digits over some marks left on it.

"Drift's attacker" declared Prowl, getting up and turning to look at his friend who remained silent, expecting a further explanation. "The cuts on the wall tells me _he_ did _that_." He explained, before turning to the hole again. "He overpowered the intruder and tied him up… Then severed all radio waves with the jammer-…"

"Preventing the sucker from calling for backup" completed the Prolihexian, receiving a nod. "He wanted time alone with the guy."

"He wanted to interrogate his attacker." The Middle Triplet agreed. "Jazz, I don't believe necessary telling you _who_ irrupted into your man's house…" He added with a sigh, locking gazes with his Amica Endura.

"The hunters" agreed the white bot, sighing too. Accent gone. "They know we're after them."

"Not only that: they know Drift is helping us. They even found out where he's living." Prowl said, gesturing around, bringing up the obvious.

"Do you think this is why he's gone into hiding?"

The enforcer simply shrugged and shook his head, not entirely sure if this was the reason or not; nonetheless, he admitted that, if it were him instead of the knight, he would be on the run too. So, both mechs agreed on something: finding the missing warrior had to become their absolute priority right now; reason why Prowl announced he was going to call for reinforcements and process the room ―maybe the attacker left something behind, revealing its identity. The Special Ops agreed with a sigh, recognizing his friend had more resources than him at the moment; however, he did ask the Praxian to be careful, and to keep this investigation on the DL.

Last thing they needed right now was Flux getting wise about their association being still active.

The enforcer nodded, agreeing, and advising his friend to go back home; that he would deal with this with upmost care. The Polihexian thanked his Amica Endura and did as told.

By the time he returned to his own place, it was almost dawn, and he was starting to feel tired. _"Drift… What have you gotten into?"_ He wondered with a half-sigh, half-yawn, as he reached for his house's door… Only to find a small package attached to it; one that wasn't there when he left. Quirking an optic-ridge, he made a quick scan of it with the few tools he carried in his subspace. Just an old holographic projector. _"What in the name of the Primes…?"_ Still confused, he decided to take his chances and, grabbing the projector, turned it on.

… … …

From the building right across the street, Drift watched as the white Polihexian entered his house with something in his hand. He saw it… Good. Now they would know who they needed to watch out for; his job was done. _"Time to disappear"_ thought the knight, picking up his bag and walking away, before the Special Ops decided to start looking around for clues. There was no doubt in his mind that the white mech would spot him, miles away.

The only thing he could hope for, now, was for his new friends to forgive and understand his actions afterwards…

If everything went according to plan…

After all, if it didn't…

With a sneer, he entered the elevator and pressed the ground button, before noticing the mirror on the back of the cabin. Suddenly, his own reflection seemed to startle him; as if he was expecting something else… _Someone_ else. Lowering his gaze to stare at the floor he mused about how much he had changed, and whether that was a good or bad thing right now. He didn't regret it. Far from it! But, if he was going to go toe to toe with Lockdown and the others… Would _one knight_ be enough? He didn't like the prospect of it, yet, if he had to be honest with himself, he couldn't go to those coordinates as Drift. He knew that already. He knew, the moment he decided to go down this road again.

Gritting his teeth, the white and orange mech closed his optics, frowning deeply. He already stated he wasn't that person anymore; however, if he wanted to survive, he would have to resource to some old tricks… As much as it pained him.

When the doors pinged open, Drift looked up, glaring at his own reflection. The echoes from a distant past showing in the image, as he turned to leave.

…

Deadlock was back.

… … …

Prowl was at his house, still massaging the back of his head which still troubled him from time to time. The medics said he got hit pretty hard, and made him all kind of funny tests while he was out cold in order to measure the real damage, but the Praxian was sure that, other than a nasty dent that would need some time to heal, nothing seemed nor felt out of place. However, the doctors told him to avoid stressful situations for a while, stating that his processor may shut down when dealing with big shocks. According to them, the damage was only temporary, but, still… It would be for the best if he just took a few days off, and gave his head time to heal. _"As if I had such thing"_ was thinking the law enforcer, rereading some reports from the attack on the station. He was determined to find his missing key. After all, that device granted full access to everything stored under the Iacon's Police Department's authority.

He was in the middle of a security feed, when someone knocked at his door, making him rise his door-wings in max alert. He wasn't expecting anyone…

"It's meh" stated the voice from the outside.

The Middle Triplet visible relaxed, letting go a vent he didn't realize he was holding; then got up to open the door. Quickly, he closed all the files he was working on, and got to his feet.

That's when he had to grab onto the desk when a sudden dizziness got him; just as last night, when he answered to Jazz's distress call. Part of him was sure that his Amica Endura had noticed something was wrong with him already, yet, he couldn't bring himself to admit it. _"It's only temporary. Nothing to actually worry about"_ reminded himself the cop as he let go of the hard surface and resumed his steps.

With yet another sigh, the white and black bot opened his front door… And his friend went straight to the computer he was using just now, and connected something to it, not even exchanging a word with the Praxian.

"Oh, sure, go ahead; make yourself at home" complained the Middle Triplet, arching an optic-ridge while he still holding the door open.

"Sorry, Prowler, but Imma bit overcharged" apologized the investigator.

"Noticed" commented Prowl as he locked his house's entrance and went to his friend's side. "So, care to share why are you invading my home?" He asked, crossing his arms and cocking his head.

"Not 'invading'. Yah opened."

"And didn't even get the chance to _invite you_ in." The enforcer retorted with narrowed optics, stressing the 'invite' part. "Plus, I'm leaving for my workplace in less than a joor, Jazz. So this better be good."

"It is." The Polihexian shot back, frowning behind his visor, while holding his friend's gaze for an entire klik, before going back to what he was doing. Then, he released a held back vent. "Look, last night when Ah came home, there was a projector taped' tah mah door. Not mine. Ah know mah stuff, ok?" He started explaining, waiting for a small nod from his companion to ensure he had the mech's attention. "So, Ah checked it out and…" The Polihexian bit his lip and averted his visor, while considering his next words carefully. "Prowl, I think Drift left this for me."

The enforcer said nothing, but his face spoke volumes: optics wide, blinking blankly, mouth slightly open; plus, his door-wings quivered a little bit. Jazz, on the other hand, limited himself to nod.

"How're you so sure?" Finally asked the Middle Tripplet, arching an optic-ridge and dropping his arms.

As to prove his point, the Polihexian reproduced the recording for both of them. Prowl got closer to his friend's side, his attention fully on the holographic performance in front of him.

The first thing he noticed was a femme, a jet ―judging by the wings― tied down to the pipes they found exposed the night before, at the knight's bedroom. She was grunting, wiggling on the spot with her hands behind her back, glaring over her shoulders, when the sound of glass shattering made her look toward the door. Shortly after another bot, a mech entered the small room and stood on his guard, assessing the situation. He was different in a less than pleasing way: the extra legs on his back, plus the battle-mask that looked like fangs indicated it was a beast-former. This was the Eukarian they were looking for.

« _Took you long enough! I sent the distress signal nearly half joor ago!_ » complained the femme, frowning deeply, glaring daggers at her… Rescuer?

Ignoring the acid comment, the mech simply shook his head and went to assist his partner, kneeling next to her, his back to the camera.

« _In case you didn't notice, I was busy_ » He shot back with a slightly husky voice. He let out a grunt as he struggled with the chains. « _Considering the sights: he got away, didn't he?_ » The Eukarian mocked his companion, right before a metallic sound was heard and the femme brought her hands to her front. She was free.

At this point, Prowl started to understand why Jazz was convinced this was a message from Drift: the knight was warning them. This was his way to let them know who the hunters were… And that they did come after him.

« _Don't patronize me, Tarantulas! I didn't see_ you _being too eager to fight him…_ » The jet rebuked, getting on her feet.

« _I had another mission_ » stated the mech, shrugging and following her movements with his visor. He was yet crouched, though.

« _And how did_ that _go? Do you have it?_ » The femme asked, frowning, massaging her wrists.

Tarantulas reached for a compartment hidden on his tight.

« _It was a bit troublesome, though… The entire data base needed a special key. I had to take down the enforcers' captain._ » He stated… Showing the key that was ripped out from Prowl's forearm.

The Praxian couldn't help himself and cursed the beast-former out loud realizing this was the guy who knocked him unconscious, the one who trespassed his precinct. The question, however, remained: why? What were they expecting to find? What was the information they needed?

The jet from the video nodded, satisfied with this.

« _So, now what?_ » The femme asked, turning to face her companion, hands on her hip.

« _Now,_ I _decrypt the database, while_ you _find and destroy Deadlock, before he gets another shot._ » Tarantulas stated, rising to his feet too, putting away the stolen key.

The female arched an optic-ridge.

« _Another shot? What're you-…?_ »

« _He's on alert now, moron. Do you honestly think this will be the last we'll see of him? He probably knows Lockdown sent you, or, at least, he must be guessing so…_ » thought the man hunter out loud, crossing his arms and looking away. « _You must warn him._ » He stated, turning to leave.

« _And why, exactly, is it_ my _duty?_ » She questioned, tensing her wings and crossing her arms.

« _Because you let him go, Slipstream._ »

The video, then, stopped abruptly. Obviously, Drift was still around the place, watching them the whole time; only after he saw the two hunters abandoning the premises, he retrieved the hidden camera and edited the feed for them to analyze it. Jazz turned the projector off, and grabbed it before turning to lock gazes with his Amica Endura. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and, no doubt, his optic-ridges were furrowed behind his visor.

Prowl, on the other hand, was lost in thoughts, reviewing the images within his mind, trying to see small details within it. First off: the names. The knight made sure the names appeared within that footage. Second: they talked about _warning_ someone that Drift got wise of their return; that means…

"He's not running…" muttered the law enforcer.

"Come again?" asked Jazz, not sure if his friend was talking to him or to himself, as he usually did when in deep thought.

"Drift." Prowl said, now locking gazes with his companion. "Think about it: last night, you thought that the attack was the reason why he suddenly went off the grid. You said it yourself, that he might be on the run, looking for a place to hide. This proves otherwise." He stated, pointing at the device brought in by the Polyhexian. "He's not running, he's going after them." He explained.

The white mech averted his visor, showing his friend that he already thought of that as soon as he saw the recording.

But, besides that, he came to the Praxian's house for another matter; one he didn't know how to express, because he already knew the answer. He was well aware that Prowl hated whenever he asked this sort of things, but he didn't have many more options left… Plus, none of his other plans would be so effective, so his mind was made already.

Unfortunately, thanks to the prolonged silence, the white and black mech started getting suspicious; so, with an arched optic-ridge, he called his companion's name drawling the sounds and narrowing his optics. The Special Ops locked gazes with him again, lips trying to form a lopsided smirk. _"Oh, no…"_ He knew that face. He knew it _far_ _too well_.

"No." The Middle Triplet stated, flatly, tensing his door-wings.

"Yah don't even know what Imma 'bout to-…"

"I don't _need to_ , Jazz! Because I know _you_!" He retorted, matter-of-factly, gesturing at the shorter mech with both hands on the last part. "And because the last time you asked me one of your infamous favors, we both ended up surrounded by a Decepticon battalion at Helex! For a _quartex_! We almost got declared MIA!"

"But we didn't." Jazz reminded his friend, triumphantly smiling, even daring to tilt his head to the side.

"Because of my brothers knowing my spark was still pulsing!" The other bot shot back, shoulders tensing up. "Whatever it is, the answer is no." He finally stated, and turned toward the door. He had to leave for his job, meaning that Jazz had to go too.

However, his Amica Endura caught him by the arm and explained himself better: he was aware of what Drift's intentions were now, just as much as the Praxian; and, even more, he knew there was no way to stop the knight. It was obvious that he did, in fact, had information on the hunters which he refused to part with; probably that was the reason why those two were sent after him. And, since they didn't manage to terminate Drift, there were only two options: either this Lockdown-character would come personally to finish the job… Or the knight would go and face his former partners, once and for all. And he was fearing that the second option sounded more viable than the first…

Prowl arched an eyebrow, turning to look at his friend.

"And what evidence do you have of it?" He asked.

"Before calling you I took a look around the apartment, last night. There was an empty box in a corner, and there was no money to be found on the premises. Nor fuel." He started listing, accent completely gone.

"He's preparing to make a trip…" considered the law enforcer, absently, as he narrowed his optics and frowned, crossing his arms in deep thought.

Jazz nodded.

"And since we know he's not running…"

"He's going after the leader himself." Prowl admitted, optics wide, turning to lock gazes with his friend once again. "That would be-…"

"Suicidal? I know. I've been investigating the name Lockdown, and it's not good… He was a mercenary long before the war, and led the men hunters ever since the conflict started. Nobody, ever, challenged him." The Special Ops informed, before shaking his head. "I need to stop him, Prowl. Before he's out of reach."

"And how, exactly, are you planning to find him? Nobody's aware of his coordinates ever since the attack; and if you could still track him, then we wouldn't be having this conversation at all…" The white and black mech stated the obvious, hands on the sides of his hip.

"I know he needs to get off planet, but can't use the… _Appropriate_ ways; otherwise a report would be send my way, and he doesn't want that. So, there's only one other way for him to get his hands on a ship without me finding out." The Polyhexian insinuated, smiling at the realization in his companion's face.

"The black market."

Jazz nodded.

"And that's when you get in: I need you to tell X-Brawn to back off, and to look away for a bit."

* * *

 **What do you think will happen now? Will they find Drift on time? Will the knight outrun his friends? What will become of Slipstream and Tarantulas now that they were discovered? One thing is for sure: I'm not telling! Not for now, at least...**

 **Hope you liked this chapter!**

 **See ya next time!**


	10. Point of no Return

**Hello again. How're you doing? Hope you're ok.**

 **Anyway, before uploading the new chapter I wanted to give you a bit of an announcement: I'm rewritting the point of origin of this saga (thus the new title); so, this story may be put on hold for a little while... Sorry, but I really want to fix some continuity issues that I've found between that story and this one. But I won't abandon this fic, so don't worry about that.**

 **The story being rewritten is called _Redemption: Rebirth_. The main character there is Knock Out, but the events in it will tie in with _Hunters and Preys_... I hope.**

 **Much of this chapter is based in _Transformers Spotlight: Jazz_ (you know, when Tracks tells the others about some super-Autobot that saved his life once), and a tiny bit in the** **aesthetics of the videogame _Tomb Raider_ (2013)... Crosshairs, however, is pretty much channeling Batman...**

 **Warning:** **English isn't my mother language, so there might be some mistakes in here.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own** ** _Transformers_** **franchise, nor its characters. It is a registered trademark of Hasbro.**

* * *

 **-NINE-**

 **POINT OF NO RETURN**

He was back. Back at the very street where it all begun, so long ago; back when he was a nobody, rusting away at some corner, where nobody could see him, where nobody cared… Nobody but one. One strange, black and golden bot who, for some reason, gave a scrap.

But he couldn't save him…

Sighing and closing his optics, Drift took a look around the alley, which was about to be wrecked and remodeled into a brand new street. Most of the long corridor between buildings ―which were long gone due to the war― was already missing; strangely enough, his old spot wasn't. It felt like the universe loved to rub the old memories in his face. His poorly made choices… It was all there for him to watch. Tapping a foot he turned away and saw the construction machinery resting nearby, and knew the laborers would be swarming the place in no time, judging by the sun which started to rise in the horizon. He had to get out of there.

He was not even sure why he came, to begin with. Maybe to remind himself how he ended in such problematic situation? The reminder was more than unnecessary. He knew why, far too well…

One last look, and he walked away.

… … …

Jazz was patiently waiting at the training room, while pretending to be burning some fuel at the simulator. As he kicked a dummy out of existence, his processor kept replaying his conversation with Prowl that morning, almost tempting him to change his plan because he knew there would be consequences… Flux was venting over his shoulder almost 24:7, and the supervisor was most likely doing the same with the Middle Triplet. There was no way they wouldn't find out. But, then again, when did he actually cared? If his plan worked, then Drift would be back, safe and sound; and all consequences would fall directly upon him, sparing the Praxian and any other bot involved. Problem was if he failed. Then, they would've to improvise, and he wasn't quite sure if his Amica Endura would take it nicely ―they've had lots of arguments about his inability to stick to a plan in the past. But, once again, this was the only idea he had to try and fix this mess before it was too late…

Finally, a green and black paintjob walked into the training room, calling his attention. Crosshairs showed up to work, at last!

So, with a decisive smirk, the Polyhexian back-flipped out of the way of an avatar's attack, and grabbed another by the wrist and tossed him against two others. Then, pounced against a hologram and rolled on the floor with it, covering with it from other attacks; later, the white mech counterattacked with his own blasters. Once in the clear, he jumped to his feet and, seeing one last avatar running toward him, Jazz sidestepped and used his blaster once again.

The system announced he was the victor and asked if he wished to engage the next level. He refused and ended his training, so he could go and talk to his subordinate who was merely doing some stretching exercises at the moment, and didn't really mind the approaching Polyhexian, even greeting him with a simple 'hey' and a nod over his shoulder. Jazz nodded right back at his companion, sporting his usual grin, until he walked right past the green mech… While whispering a single name.

Crosshairs, taken by surprise, froze on his place and turned to watch his retrieving superior with wild eyes and his jaw slightly agape. Part of him not really believing to have heard it right, and, yet… Before being aware of it, he was already following the shorter bot, calling out for him. The former third in command finally stopped at a narrow hallway that the paratrooper didn't know that existed, and stopped there, crossing his arms and leaning against a wall, waiting for the green mech to approach him. The sharpshooter walked up to him, still in a haze, and stared at the other Autobot. There was only one question inside his head at the moment:

"How did you-…?"

"Know of yer past story? 'Cuz I'm the best on what I do" answered the Polyhexian, not even bothering to allow the other bot to finish his query.

"The files were protected. Some were even destroyed" rebuked Crosshairs, frowning deeply and squaring his shoulders.

Jazz's grin widened. He even chuckled at his subordinate's confusion.

"Yah know mah reputation… Dat's gotta be enough for yah tah tell Ah was bound to figure it out somehow. Someday." Jazz finally stated, shrugging and pushing himself off the wall, hands falling to the sides of his hip. "Yah hid pretty good, though. Took me a while to crack the codes; I'll give yah that."

"It wasn't my doing…" Crosshairs mumbled between his clenched teeth, while averting his optics, suddenly realizing something. "Where the heck are we?" He asked, looking around, noticing for the first time the long and narrow hallway that seemed to simply connect to a bunch of staircases. There was nothing there, except for them.

"This was built as an emergency exit, in case an accident ever happened. Also happens to be the only blind spot in this building, meaning that, as long as we stand in this circle" said the Polyhexian, dropping the accent and drawing said circle with his hands, around them; "Flux can't see us. And, given the circumstances, I would appreciate some privacy."

His sole answer was an arched optic-ridge and a long and uneasy stare. Not that he didn't expect it, though; to begin with, this was the first time he talked normally with this guy, plus he wasn't being inconspicuous… Then again, he needed to make sure the paratrooper was in for it, before he openly shared any information with him. After all, if things went south, the less he knew, the better for Crosshairs' sake. Then again, he needed this guy's Intel; so, taking his chances, the Special Ops officer went back to business.

"I need everything you've got on Black Shadow, ASAP. Once you give me that much, you'll be free to go and pretend this conversation never happened, alright?" He assured his subordinate, cocking his head to the side while gesturing between them with one servo.

"What if I refuse?" challenged the green mech.

"To share, or to look the other way?" Jazz questioned, both hands back on his waist, knowing where this was going.

"To both."

The Polyhexian, then, switched his demeanor so fast that Crosshairs did never see it coming… In a split-second, the short and unassuming mech had him grabbed by the collar of his armor, and had pulled him down to his own level; his visor was now shining in a whole new shade of blue, and his cocky grin was nowhere to be found. This wasn't 'old, easy-going Jazz', this was 'third in command, Special Ops, and investigator Jazz'; this was the guy he heard about during the war, the one who infiltrated dozens of Decepticons' outposts, and always managed to come out alive and with all his limbs still attached to him.

"Then I'm forced to remind you of your place, _soldier_ …" growled the white mech. "I _am_ your immediate superior officer, and I'm ordering you to tell me everything you ever got on that guy. Right now." He demanded, not letting go from the other Autobot.

Crosshairs, nonetheless, remained as defiant as usual…

"Yah know, when I was undercover, my bosses used to explain me the mission beforehand…" The paratrooper grunted, trying to pry himself from the Polyhexian's grip ―the guy was strong, for being so short. "I like to know what I'm getting into, before taking the leap." He added, staring straight onto the other bot's visor.

"If I tell you, you may be charged of treason for aiding me. If I keep you in the dark, you'll be safe and the fall will be all mine to take." Jazz explained, his voice depleted from emotion.

"Treason?" Crosshairs repeated, blinking in surprise, finally managing to free himself from the Polyhexian's hand, and straightening his back. "What sort of scrap did you get yourself into?" He questioned, massaging his collar-wires.

The Special Ops sighed, tiredly, before admitting that it wasn't him who was in trouble, but Drift. He even explained the recording of the men hunters that the knight left at his front door… And suddenly, everything made sense for the green mech; starting with why nobody has seen his partner in cycles. _"If he's being chased by hunters…"_ The mere thought made the sharpshooter made up his mind, and offer himself for the mission, even though the Polyhexian kept saying it wasn't a wise idea; he didn't care. He just wanted his partner back, to the point in which he refused to share whatever data he obtained on Black Shadow, unless he let him in.

Jazz couldn't help but back away, cocking his head and staring at his companion in utter surprise at that last statement. His mouth in a thin line, while his processor tried to remember the last time a subordinate challenged him like that. No memories were coming back at him, so there were big chances for this particular moment to be the first time in his life. It gave Crosshairs a few points in the lieutenant's optics, although it also made the shorter mech want to strangle him; this last thought making him realize what Prowl felt during their time serving together ―he would've to apologize for it someday… Now, however, he had to prevent a catastrophe from taking place.

"Alright" agreed the former third in command, still not fully convinced. "You can help, but only if you do what I say, when I say it. No questions asked." He stated, stressing the last part by pointing at the other bot's face.

"Works for me" answered the paratrooper, shrugging. "So, what do yah need to know 'bout the guy?"

"Everything."

With a nod, the green mech looked around them, making sure they were alone, before revealing that he still had a few copies from that case back at his apartment. He could go and retrieve them within ten kliks, and meet with the Special Ops wherever he found appropriate; nevertheless, he stressed the fact that if they were going after that bot, they would be stepping onto other people's pedes. He was well aware that X-Brawn's team was in charge of recapturing that smuggler ―and he didn't bother to hide his anger on this part, something that Jazz finally understood.

"Don't worry 'bout the Eldest Triplet. I got it covered" admitted the white mech, patting his companion's shoulder, and starting to walk away. "Yah just grab yer stuff and meet me at the coordinates Ah'm sending yah right now. Yah have ten kliks, soldier." He said, finally walking out of the hallway, and back into the training room.

Crosshairs vented to calm himself, and failed miserably. This guy was irritating, to say the least; especially now that he, somehow, got access to his old files. How on Cybertron did he manage to do that?! Sure, he heard stories of his top secret missions during the war, and, yes, he saw him recovering the data from that ship's messed up black box, but still… His previous superiors sworn that nobody would ever find those files again. _"After this, I'm gonna get some answers from him"_ thought the green mech, before using the emergency exit to his right. It brought him to the street behind the HQ; so, he transformed and took the way home.

He would deal with Jazz later. Right now, he had a partner to save; so, putting some metal to the pedal, the green warrior went to his place to retrieve the only copy he had of his old cases. Entering his apartment, and shaking his helm, he forced himself to return to the present issue at hand. Thus, searching through his cabinets, trying to remember where exactly he put those files, the green mech found what he was looking for and grabbed the data-pad, typing the password. _"Still works. Unbelievable."_ Crosshairs snorted, humorously, scanning the information stored in the device. All his notes, every recording; everything was there, and in perfect state. Great. Hopefully, this would help him and the Polyhexian get the knight back.

Checking the received coordinates, Crosshairs left his apartment and went to meet with the white bot as fast as he could.

… … …

Sunset was nearly upon them, and Drift felt his spark picking up its pace. Soon, he would be onboard a ship, and on his way to the worst idea he has ever had… And there were plenty before this one. Yet, he kept telling himself that it was for the greater good. Lockdown wouldn't stop, unless someone forced him to; and he knew far well how hard that was to accomplish… So far, that green mech was one of the few he couldn't defeat. _"This time will be different"_ told himself the knight, frowning and closing his eyes at the memory of the last day in which he saw the green and black hunter. The day they fought in the open field…

He tried to tell himself that it was due to the wounds he sustained while keeping Braids' forces at bay, when he and the others were attempting to protect New Crystal City from being discovered.

He was weak and tired back then, and, quite honestly, after failing in protecting Wing… Sighing, he remembered how lost he felt back then. It was like he always reacted too late when it came to helping his friends. _"But not now… Not anymore"_ thought the warrior, decision shining in his optics as he opened to stare at the horizon.

The sun was nearly touching the ground. Soon, it would be time to leave…

… … …

The sky was starting to turn orange as the sun slowly made its way toward the horizon line, making everything start to shift to a more golden-orange shade. It was the most beautiful time to take a look at the Sea of Rust, which new polish gave a wonderful scenery to the optics; nevertheless, Black Shadow's sentry wasn't there to check out the scene. After that knight paid them a visit some cycles ago, they had relocated themselves deeper within the Sea of Rust, hoping no other Autobot would find them.

"Huh?" One of the sentinels thought he heard something, and went to check, finding a small piece of debris on the ground. Cocking his head and arching an optic-ridge, the mech inspected the object for a minute… Until a shadow was casted from behind him. Alarmed, he attempted to turn and get in position; but his consciousness slipped from him faster than that, as a steely hand knocked him out.

A second intruder caught the guard before it hit the floor, while the first bot grabbed the feet, silently gesturing his partner where to put the guy. Quickly, they placed the 'Con out of sight, and went back to task.

The white, short mech, the one leading the duo, peeked from a corner, finding another guard a few feet away from their position; but there didn't seem to be another, not as long as his optics could see. Good. It should be easy then; so, turning to look at his green partner, he gestured him to stay put and cover him. Then, the white bot slowly stepped out of his hiding, as the guard looked away. Meanwhile, the green mech observed, hiding behind the corner, blasters at the ready… But he never needed to use them. His superior jumped on the Decepticon's back, sending both of them to the floor ―probably his intention, considering the sentry was at least a head taller―; once in advantage, the Autobot knocked his opponent out, just as he did the other.

Once it was safe, the white bot turned and indicated his companion to help him move this second guy, before anyone saw them. Again, they took him to the same corner they stashed the other. Considering the amount of empty crates and old rags, they guessed it was an unused storage…

"We gotta move, 'fore the next shift arrives" stated the one leading the incursion, in a low voice. "Whatcha know 'bout this guy, 'Hairs?"

Crosshairs groaned, but did as told. Even when he didn't exactly had much hopes of surprising this particular 'Con, he would give it a chance… This was personal after all, it wasn't just about Drift. In his life, prior to the war, he was an enforcer too; he caught a lot of most wanted bots, but Black Shadow… It was like a constant spike on his lateral flexor. Denying he has had dreamed with bringing that glitch to justice would be a lie; nevertheless, he had kept his distance, since this particular mission was given to someone else ―Primus knows what strings Jazz pulled so the other team may look away, while they were there. And, speaking of the lieutenant, Crosshairs couldn't deny he was both impressed and kind of worried… He had heard stories about him, and about his many incursions into enemy territory; but this was the first time he saw him in action. Even before reaching their goal, the Polyhexian has already managed to pull some impressive stunts. He was famous for improvising on the go, but… Considering what he was seeing, Crosshairs wasn't so sure about that anymore.

Suddenly, Jazz stopped and plastered to a wall. Just in case, the paratrooper followed.

Seconds later, a sentry passed by, missing the two intruders who were hiding in the shadow.

"How-…?"

"Best audios in the force" whispered the shorter mech, smirking, not allowing the other to finish his question. Obviously not the first time someone showed curiosity about it. "Let's go."

After a few other close encounters, the two mechs finally arrived to their destination, where they saw a pitch black bot giving orders to a bunch of others. That was the guy they were looking, no doubt. _"Uh-oh… Problem"_ thought the Polyhexian, as he jabbed his partner to point him toward a set of two towers, both of them had guards. No way for them to go unnoticed. An all-out fight wasn't advisable, either… Black Shadow may just slip away during the rumble. They needed a distraction; preferably one from outside, that made the 'Cons look the wrong way. _"And I know just the guy"_ smiled the Special Ops, as he called X-Brawn, the oldest Triplet, explaining quickly what he needed from him.

In no time, the guards from the towers alerted the others of an Autobot team coming their way. Soon, Black Shadow sent some of his goons to defend the camp, while the others helped him saving whatever they could… starting with himself, of course.

"Get ready" said Jazz to his partner, as he took his own blasters out. Crosshairs, once again, followed.

The moment Black Shadow went inside his hut, the two Autobots shared a nod and plunged forward, taking the remaining guards by surprise. This gave the two warriors all the advantage they required to overpower their enemies completely; even though, they soon found themselves surrounded. _"He's gonna run"_ Jazz thought, as half dozen 'Cons ran up at them, knowing what they were doing; while they were entertained, Black Shadow would escape from a backdoor, somewhere. So, making the call, the Polyhexian ordered his partner to chase the leader, while he held back the guards.

Crosshairs didn't need much convincing… In fact, he nodded and hurried after the black bot; only after finding himself with a blaster pointed at his face, as soon as he entered the construction did the green mech consider the rare chance that _he_ may end up needing backup. _"Scrap"_ thought the warrior, frowning and clenching his jaw, until his lips were in one tense and thin line. The 'Con, however, and even when he had his opponent right where he wanted him, couldn't hide his curiosity as one of his optic-ridges arched and his head cocked to the side.

"Do I know you, Autobot?" Black Shadow asked, suddenly.

"Funny. I hear that a lot" Crosshairs bit back, trying hard not to show any emotion.

Suddenly, the black mech's optics widened in obvious recognition; mostly thanks to the attitude, because the frame was obviously tampered with. He couldn't quite put his digit on why, but he was sure he knew this bot. Maybe he made a deal with him during the war, or maybe even before that… Either way, he had more important things to attend to, and time was pressing; the Autobots found a way through his defenses, meaning he had to leave right about now. So, he charged up the blaster and prepared to be done with his unrequested visitor.

Fortunately for Crosshairs, that was when a white vehicle rammed the smuggler and sent him flying to the wall on the back of the room, rendering him unconscious. Said car soon shifted into Jazz, who turned to stare at his subordinate with a smirk; his pose indicating he was at ease. However, what the paratrooper noticed first was the abundant _lack_ of scratches all over the shorter mech's body, so he couldn't help but to take a look outside. His Energon froze when his optics saw the groaning and chained guards, scattered all over the floor… Especially when Crosshairs happened to remember that the lieutenant was _alone_ the entire time. Turning to face his companion, who was now crouching and tying up their main prisoner, the green bot couldn't help but to notice that he was disturbingly relaxed, considering what just went down outside.

Eventually, the Polyhexian felt the eyes on him and stared at his partner, finding funny his gawking expression.

"What?" chuckled the white Autobot, as he kept tightening the chains around Black Shadow.

" _What_ are you?" Crosshairs asked, optic-ridges slightly frowned both in confusion and alert.

"An Autobot, same as you" rebuked the lieutenant, shrugging and taking a pair of stasis-cuffs out of his subspace.

"I wouldn't have been able to pull _that_ out" shot back the paratrooper, pointing at the knocked out soldiers outside, and raising his voice. Jazz simply ignored him, and proceeded to sit the 'Con straight, leaning him against a wall. "You've been going easy on us all this time, haven't you?" The green mech pressed again, taking a pair of steps toward his companion, who simply sighed and sagged his shoulders.

"Look, we can keep arguing about who I am, and what I am capable to do, all day; _or_ -…" saying this, he rose to his feet, "we can do the logical thing here, which is find out where's Drift. Your pick." He challenged, crossing his arms.

Begrudgingly, Crosshairs vented and nodded, letting go the subject for now, and recognizing that there were more pressing matters to attend to. Nevertheless, he made a mental note to ask again about this particular issue later, if the chance ever arrived; a small part of him was warning the warrior that, if the Special Ops officer had somehow managed to look so unassuming for so long, even to his own companions, he wouldn't let his guard fall like this again anytime soon. There might never be another chance to corner the white mech, but, right now, they both had to focus in finding Drift. So, making his mind, the paratrooper crouched in front of Black Shadow, and started shaking him awake.

The 'Con groaned and scrunched his optic-ridges for a moment, gritting his teeth, before his optics started to online. He had to blink rapidly for a few seconds, in order to refocus them; yet, finally, he was capable of fully seeing the two bots in front of him: the green one, whose face still looked familiar somehow, crouched right in front of him; and the smirking white one, who was standing a few steps behind the other, arms crossed in self-content. Nonetheless, it took Black Shadow another breem to collect every piece of information in a coherent way, so he could understand what exactly was going on around him. Only then did he notice that his hands were cuffed behind his back, and that the rest of him was tied. Immediately, his first response was to squirm around, struggling with his bonds.

Jazz chuckled softly.

"Don't bother. Ah made sure yah can't wiggle outta there" stated the lieutenant, recovering the accent.

Black Shadow, eventually, sighed and stopped trying. Deciding there was no other option, he sat cross-legged with his back against the wall, and stared at his captors, decided to negotiate his way out.

"Alright, 'Bots… What do you want?" He asked, unamused.

"You're the only smuggler to survive the war, meaning that if anyone needed a 'hard to find' item, then they'll have to come to you; am I right?" Crosshairs asked, narrowing his eyes.

"If they can pay the price…" corrected the 'Con, shrugging as if it were obvious.

"We ain't here tah buy, but tah ask yah a few questions, concerning yer clients" clarified Jazz, picking up which way the black mech intended to go. Then, he quickly pulled out a data-pad containing Drift's picture, and showed it to the prisoner. "Do yah remember him?"

The 'Con arched an eyebrow, but took a look anyway, recognizing the guy instantly and cursing himself for haven't followed his gut and sent him off immediately. He knew that bot would be trouble. After all, no self-respecting Autobot would come to him for help… So, considering his options, he scanned the two bots in front of him with upmost care. He wasn't all too sure whether they would agree or not, but it was his best shot…

"Say I answer, what's in it for me?" Black Shadow asked, frowning and raising his head in an arrogant manner.

"A cell" rebuked Crosshairs.

"An _isolation_ cell" added Jazz, crossing his arms. "Refuse to help, and Ah can toss yer aft into a communal one. Other 'Cons would _love_ tah see yah, for sure." He suggested, knowing far well that the smuggler's reputation as a reversible jacket preceded him all over the factions.

The black mech, however, simply chuckled.

"Oh, I'm so scared…" The 'Con mocked. "Nah… You'll have to do this my way, or I'm not talking."

Then, suddenly, the winged bot felt himself being grabbed by the collar and pulled up, only to be slammed against the wall, his feet barely brushing the ground. Startled, Black Shadow found himself staring into the blazing optics of Crosshairs, who was growling and gritting his bared teeth, doing a very poor job in order to contain his rage toward this particular prisoner.

On the other hand, the Polyhexian didn't seem too interested in stopping him either… In fact, he was grinning again.

The new setting gave Jazz an idea, and wanted to try this new angle.

"Ah would start talkin', if Ah were yah…" He sing-sang. "Ah dunno how long Ah'll be able to restrain 'Hairs…" He added, barely paying any attention to the other two bots as he inspected his digits, pretending to be utterly uninterested on how things may develop.

Finally, Black Shadow gulped.

"F-fine! I'll talk, just tell him to let me go!" He cried out, scared.

Nodding, the lieutenant walked up to his partner and placed a servo on the green mech's shoulder; as soon as he got the taller bot's attention, he dipped his head to silently order the paratrooper to release the prisoner. Groaning in rage, the warrior did so; and the jet fell indecorously on the floor, panting, still in panic, although feeling a bit relieved.

"A'right, now that's been taken care of… _Talk_ " ordered the white mech, visor focusing on the 'Con, all traces of his grin gone.

"He came here a few cycles ago, asking for a spaceship. He paid me half the price, and told me that the rest would be delivered to me after the exchange of the asset, not before; it was reasonable so I agreed to help, and gave him a set of coordinates to meet my partner to complete the trade." Black Shadow explained.

"Where and when's this gonna happen?" Jazz pressed.

"Tonight, at the seventh joor. Turion's Observatory, west of Iacon."

"Scrap! That doesn't leave us much time to catch him!" Crosshairs cursed, after checking his chronometer and his map: the place was several miles away. Only driving at max speed they may have one itsy-bitsy chance to find the knight on time, but even then they would be cutting in a bit too close for anyone's like.

For a moment, the Polyhexian didn't say anything, and remained there, staring at his prisoner; or so it looked. True be told, he was trying to come up with a shortcut to the area ―having navigated the entire planet during the war, finding new passageways to go undetected by enemy forces sure were proving to be useful now. The old memory of a tunnel from Old Cybertron that crossed straight through Iacon was returning to him, and, if his memory served, it had an exit near the place they needed to go. Only problem was the speed… He may be a slick grounder, but Jazz knew far well his speed-limit, which was inferior to the green mech's. Plus, someone had to stay put and keep an eye on these guys, until X-Brawn's team arrived.

Sighing, he made his mind.

"Do yah have an old holo-cube communicator with yah?" The lieutenant asked, staring to the paratrooper.

"Huh? Not currently… Why?" Crosshairs wondered, blinking in confusion.

Suddenly, the white bot took one out of his subspace and gave it to his subordinate.

"Take this one, and go tah the coordinates following the ancient tunnel that runs through the city. There should be a point of access half klik east from here; it's a straight way, no possible chances for yah tah get lost. Try tah catch Drift, and bring him home." The Polyhexian ordered, gesturing the other bot to take his leave right away.

"Wait, what? You're not coming?"

"Ah ain't fast enough, and would end up being a lag. Besides, someone has to stay and watch tha prisoners…" He explained with a shrug, before checking his chronometer. "Yah gotta go right now tah have a chance, 'Hairs. Use that to keep me posted."

Crosshairs nodded, although hesitantly, and turned to leave. However, Jazz steely hand grabbed him by the elbow, making him turn and look at the shorter mech, silently demanding an explanation.

"If you can't make him turn around, then go along as his backup" ordered the Special Ops, all traces of his accent gone to stress how serious he was. "If he's truly attempting to find the other hunters, there're big chances he'll need help."

This time, the paratrooper nodded with decision, as he made his way out, going over the instructions to make sure he knew which way to go.

… … …

Tarantulas managed to use one of the radios from Slipstream's ship to tap onto the Autobot-chatter, getting wise about the law enforcers tracking any and all aerial movement. If they attempted to leave the planet right now, the most probable outcome would be for them to be shot out of the sky; meaning that the smartest thing to do, for the moment, was nothing. This didn't set well with the Seeker femme, who seemed ready to terminate him at the first chance he gave her. Nor that he was having a blast, either… With his things confiscated by Iacon's Police Department, there was just so much he could do. Plus, it was too risky to send a message to Lockdown and the others.

They were on their own…

And their sole project to keep them both occupy was the decryption of the data they recovered the other cycle. It turned out to be quite simple after gaining access to it with the captain's key. Soon, they would know why it was so important to retrieve.

A loud sound made the femme look up as the ship shook a little; the beast former did the same, but quickly returned to his duties.

"We should move" ranted Slipstream dedicating a frown to her companion, while sitting on the captain's chair with her arms crossed. "They'll find us, if we don't."

"They'll find us, if we _do_ " corrected the mech, raising his visor from the screen on his hands to stare at her, before returning his attention to it. "The moment you activate the engines, they'll pick it up in their scanners. Then we get caught, then we've to deal with either an entire troop of Autobots, or a very pissed off Lockdown…" He said, while trying to crack the Autobot coding. "Honestly, I don't know which would be worst…"

"So, your plan is to sit in your skid plate until, either, Lockdown or Blackout decides to send a rescuing party?" She asked, incredulously arching an optic-ridge and smirking. The femme didn't wait for a response, before doing a raspberry and laugh. "For a scientist, sometimes you speak like an idiot." She added, grinning in a bitter way to her companion.

"I know expecting for them to send help is pure folly, Slipstream. It wasn't that what I meant." The mech corrected, not even bothering to look at her.

"Then, what exactly-…?"

"I was merely implying that we must wait for the right time-…" At that point, the data-file was decrypted, revealing what they were actually holding. "To make a move… Oh, by Onyx Prime…"

The swear picked the jet's curiosity, making her stand up and go to check what the other bot found… Only to finally understand why that guy wanted this file so badly…

"Tell me we're not hiding _him_." Tarantulas pleaded, finally looking at his companion, who simply stared back at him as a silent confirmation.

The beast-former shook his head in denial, before eyeing the data-pad in his hands.

What they retrieved… It was a list of names…

… … …

The sun was beginning to set when he arrived to the rendezvous point, where a small spaceship was waiting, next to a tall blue mech of red optics. This last one was casually leaning against the vessel's open entry, arms crossed, looking bored; however, his demeanor changed quickly, the moment in which a second bot appeared. Another mech, much younger than him, of white and orange armor, bearing swords on both sides of his hip, plus a ginormous third one, which was secured to his back; he had a small bag with him, and was checking the ship with thoughtful optics. Finally, he focused on the red eyed bot and reached for a small package, which he threw in the other's direction.

Catching it in midair, the blue mech inspected the contents, finding the accorded amount of shanix within. He smirked, and walked out of the vessel's hatch.

"Pleasure making business with you" chuckled the 'Con, as he walked past the other bot, who didn't answer.

He stared to his transport for a minute, not taking a single step forward. His processor was having second thoughts, and was screaming at him to turn around and go back home; to come clean with his teammates, and explain himself. Jazz would most likely help him if he clarified everything… Maybe. Who knows? Perhaps they would accept his advice, and take him along to make the arrest of the hunters? Unlikely, but dreaming was for free, right? _"There's no other way"_ The knight told himself one more time, sighing.

Making his mind, he took a step… And froze on the spot when hearing a blaster, followed by a pained grunt. Turning around, and preparing one of his swords, the white and orange mech saw the blue one falling on his back a few meters ahead. The guy was unconscious, and there was a shadow moving nearby; another bot was in the premises, and was, most likely, unfriendly.

Gripping his blade, the knight backpedalled toward the ship, never losing sight of the newcomer.

"I don't wanna fight, Drift…"

Snapping out of his defensive stance, the knight put down his sword and stared, optics wide, as a green figure came out of its cover. It couldn't be…

"Crosshairs?" He questioned, almost doubting his own senses. "What are you doing here?" He asked, once his processor decided that the Autobot was real, and not a mere guilt-induced delusion.

"What am _I_ doing here? What the frag are _you_ doing here, and making deals with Black Shadow and Blue Bacchus out of everyone?!" The paratrooper barked, scowling and marching up to his partner, hands balled in fists. "And what's all this slag with the hunters?! Why didn't you say anything?! We're your partners, dammit!" He kept yelling, while gesturing wildly.

Drift opened his mouth as to answer, but nothing came out, and preferred to simply shake his head in denial. It would probably be for the best if they didn't know… Nevertheless, his reaction only infuriated the other mech further, as his locked jaw and blazing optics indicated.

"We're going back to the HQ. Right now!" Crosshairs ordered. "Hopefully, Jazz'll be able to make Flux let this one go…" He added, muttering as he turned to leave.

However, as soon as he turned his back on the younger warrior, the former hunter attempted to escape by making his run toward the ship. Fortunately, the paratrooper noticed, and ran after his partner. Thanks to the lack of any other means to stop his companion, the green mech ended up resourcing to pounce upon the knight, sending them both to the ground with a loud thud.

"Let go!" cried the white and orange bot, squirming beneath his friend's weight.

"I'm not letting you do this! You're coming with me! Now!" warned the sharpshooter.

The swordsman mentally apologized and shut his eyes. He hated to do this, but there was no other choice: taking his friend by surprise, the knight managed to break free, turn and shove his attacker off his back with a loud growl. Once free, he tried to get onboard once more, but the green mech, recovering as fast as he could, grabbed his partner from the wrist… Only to be reattributed with a punch that nearly knocked him out. _"Scrap, Drift's stronger than he looks…"_ Crosshairs thought, massaging his left cheek, and staring at the other mech, who was finally inside the ship.

Sighing, and remembering his orders, the paratrooper hurried to jump inside before the hatch closed, thus surprising his friend, who got into battle stance.

"Relax…" The green mech said, showing up his hands in submission. "I'm not going to attack, or anything… In fact, I'm coming with." He stated, walking toward the controllers.

Something sharp poked his back-plates, making the warrior stop on the spot, hands up. The knight behind him wouldn't attack people from the back, would he?

"Easy, there. Let's use words…" The paratrooper carefully pleaded, as he slowly turned to look over his shoulder.

Drift was scowling at him, at the same time he punched in the code to open the hatch again.

"You. Out. Now" ordered the knight.

"And if I refuse?" challenged the other.

The dilemma in the younger mech's optics was evident: he really wanted to kick the stowaway out of the ship, but at the same time there was a part of him who didn't. Very deep within his spark, Drift knew the dangers of his current course of action, and was aware that he could come down to need an assist; yet, he wasn't all-too-sure whether he was ready to take that risk one more time. Needless to say that his past experiences were winning the fight, so, he moved as to reach for the other mech's shoulder in order to push him out of the ship; but was interrupted by loud sirens ringing in the distance.

Surprised, he took a look outside, only to see the intermittent lights of the law enforcers growing closer to their current position. _"How did they-…?"_ Venting erratically, surprised and confused, the knight didn't need to finish that question, for a sudden chuckle from his companion gave him all the information needed: Crosshairs called them here.

"We can still avoid them if we leave now… After all, I just tipped them about Blue Bacchus being in the premises, not about you" commented the paratrooper, looking over his shoulder, a clear smirk on his lips.

The mock was enough to make the other react. Growling and clenching his teeth, the knight whipped his head back to him, and nailed the green bot under a deadly glare. He was evidently unhappy with this arrangement, but, since he now didn't have much of a choice, accepted things as they were. So, reluctantly, Drift closed the hatch and sheathed his sword, before running toward the controllers, meanwhile telling his unwanted partner to take a seat. _"This piece of scrap better work"_ thought the white and orange mech, as he fumbled with the panels, activating the engines. It was a small vessel, and, judging by some materials around, quite old… But functional, at least. Once the engines were operational, and the ship was airborne, Drift made it take off, putting distance from the ground as fast as possible.

On the seat next to the knight, Crosshairs saw, not without a good amount of horror, how his companion's servo reached for one specific interrupter…

"You can't quantum jump yet! We're too close to the surface!" The paratrooper yelled, struggling to strap himself to his chair, just in case the younger mech was crazy enough as to do it anyway.

"If we don't, they'll shoot off our engines, and force us to land." Drift explained, activating the jump. "And, for your information, I'm a decent pilot, but I suck at emergency landings…" He added, glancing at his companion from the corner of his optic.

The button glowed, indicating the engine was ready to perform the jump.

"Oh, frag…" cursed the green bot, adjusting himself for the hit…

And the knight pushed the button.

…

From the ground, Prowl saw as the spaceship took off, and jumped who-knows-where. _"I can't believe I just allowed this…"_ thought the captain, sighing and turning to look at his subordinates, who were currently arresting the blue Decepticon, who was barely regaining consciousness. He knew who sent them the coordinates, as much as he knew who was onboard that ship; and, most of all, he knew whose heads would roll if all this backfired…

Trying to hide his thoughts, he distanced himself from the other enforcers before opening his com-link.

"They just left" informed the Praxian.

« _Both of them?_ » Jazz's voice asked from the other end of the line, sounding almost surprised.

"Considering the lack of any other bots around here… Yes." The black and white mech stated, scanning the surrounding area, almost hoping to see at least one of his Amica Endura teammates. "Are you sure about this, Jazz?" He pressed, sighing. "You know Flux will figure this whole thing out, and come after you."

« _I know._ » There were cars' sounds in the background, meaning that the Polyhexian was back in the city.

"Ok, seeing that all this seems to be part of some grand plan of yours… Anything _else_ I should know beforehand?"

« _Not at the moment._ » answered the Special Ops, his voice echoing a bit, meaning he was now indoors; probably within his apartment. There was a sigh. « _Just trust me, ok? Like you've always done_ » pleaded the white mech.

Prowl ended the call with a sigh, and rubbed his optics tiredly. Every single time Jazz came up with that plea, serious scrap was about to hit their fans…

* * *

 **Hope you liked it.**

 **See ya.**


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